


Changing Stars

by Lunerwerewolf



Series: Circles of Time [1]
Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, M/M, canon slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3742243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunerwerewolf/pseuds/Lunerwerewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Magical war spills over onto Velgarth, the Star-eyed Goddess takes drastic measures. Now 500 years after his death, Herald-Mage Vanyel, once the first Herald Mage in the Circle, must make a choice. One that could prove to be his undoing. Warning - this story is a crossover, if you squint, and its sequel will be a cross over. This story is slash, Obviously, it's Van.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Watch that first step

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should be writing my thesis or working on one of my other Fics but this one wouldn't leave me alone.  
> Can anyone guess what Noctis is?

Vanyel stood silently upon the moon paths, and leaned into Yfandes’ side. Head bowed as he contemplated the Star-eyed Goddess’s request. He took comfort in her stalwart presence, and held himself fast against the emotional gale that threatened to blow him over. _Oh gods, why me? Can’t they leave me in peace? I don’t think I’ll have the strength this time._

_:You don’t have to do this Chosen.: Yfandes informed him firmly, :You’ve done more than should have been asked of you already.:_

His hand closed on her mane, and he rubbed his cheek against her soft fur, seeking comfort. He’d ‘moved on’ a little over ten years ago. Valdemar and her allies hadn’t been prepared for the Mage war that followed hard on the heels of the catechism. Valdemar and Karse, there Mage-priests and Herald Mages decimated by 500years of improper training and lack of magic in general, were the hardest hit. Valdemar’s populace was scattered, her lands shattered. Karse was in similar straights.

_Oh Gods, Tylendel. He’ll hate me! Steffen, Steff, will never even be born. I’ll lose ‘Fandes. Oh Gods. If I do this, I’ll be completely alone. I don’t think I can do this, I’m not strong enough._

Yfandes nuzzled him gently, _:You will never truly be alone Chosen:_ She said softly into his mind. _: Even if you do this Chosen, we will be together again. It may just take longer.:_

_:And your new Chosen?:_ He enquired before he could stop himself. Shame washed over him at the jealousy that colored the question. He sighed and shook his head. _: Sorry, I’m being possessive and I shouldn’t. Just the idea of never having you. Of remembering it all and knowing what I once had while watching you with your new Herald and knowing that you won’t know me. Fandes, it hurts!:_

She nuzzled him again. _: It is your choice, Chosen. I would take this from you if I could, but it is your choice, and I will love you no less regardless of your choice. If I cannot walk beside you in life then I will walk beside you in death my Chosen. The spirit in me recognizes and honors the spirit in you. It will always be so Chosen. Even if we do not know you as a Herald, we will know that you have done much for Valdemar, even if we do not remember it, and we, the Companions, will honor you for that sacrifice. :_

Vanyel sighed and raised his head, “what will happen if I refuse?” he asked after a second.

The Star-eyed met his gaze and answered his question, her voice level and mild. “Then the timeline will remain as it is, and Valdemar and my Children will fall.”

“And if I do this?” he enquired noting the strangely beautiful creature that twined around her for the first time. It was a large cat. Thought smaller than any ‘large cat’ he’d ever seen or heard about. Roughly a foot and a half tall at the shoulder it was, oddly enough, around 6 feet from the end of its nose to tail tip. He noted absently, that approximately half of that length was the animal’s bushy and apparently semi prehensile tail. It couldn’t weigh more than a small hound; 30 pounds if he had to guess, but he doubted it even weighed that much. Not with the way it moved, on silent feet with an almost liquid grace. It disappeared from one spot, only to reappear in another, and seemed to vanish whenever it held still despite an admittedly beautiful coat that should have done nothing to hide it. Particularly not here of all places.

“There can be no guarantee, young Vanyel, for the timeline will reset, and what the world does in the years after your sacrifice will depend wholly upon them. But your sacrifice will have bought them time, and the magical strength to potentially hold fast against the coming enemy.” She replied in the same, aggravating mild tone one would discuss the weather on a positively monotonous day. The cat creature flowed around her, pausing periodically to stand upon the empty air. Abruptly, it sat down before her on the open air, its ridiculously long tail hanging down behind it, so that it looked for all the world as if it perched upon an invisible branch. Turning its head, with an almost regal air it regarded the goddess with its full attention, and Vanyel got his first truly unobstructed look at the thing.

It truly was beautiful. A ruff of thick fur, reminiscent of a bobcat, framed its face. The fur on the back of its neck was longer then the fur on the rest of its body, but nowhere near long enough to be termed a mane. It blended beautifully back into the overall short but thick body fur in a manner that was both elegant and beautiful. The base of its coat was a strangely beautiful ebony color that shown like polished obsidian. It had strange silver markings, and seemed incapable of deciding whether or not it was striped, splotched or spotted. Long wickedly curved, ivory claws, clutched the open air at its paws and Van realized with mounting fascination that the strange soft noise on the edge of his hearing, was the animal’s voice as it spoke to the Goddess in utterly nonsensical sentences.

“Shoulder our ancestral load, and two worlds may be saved,” it replied jovially. “Three, long ago, became one. One walked in dreams, and spoke truths in riddles safe enough to grace mortal ears Great Lady. One stood openly as confidant and guide, that man was a shadow without. The last predator, with predator’s sensibilities. Now, all we once where, we can never be again, for we are more together then we were apart.” It turned its head and regarded him with far too intelligent eyes, and Vanyel shuddered when he noticed its teeth for the first time. Elegant backwards curving, and serrated incisors, only just reached past the creature’s lower jaw. However, they were a great deal, shorter and more robust then the long, thin sabers he’d seen on Change-lions. “Should you choose to give two worlds a chance, we shall ensure you don’t walk alone. It won’t come as you think at a glance, when you reap the help you’ve sown.” The creature flashed him a grin, before slowly vanishing from his sight, one splotch at a time.

The Star-eyed shook her head and sighed, “as ever old friend, you leave me wondering if you mean what you say or say what you mean, and nothing more.” She turned her attention back to Vanyel. “What is your decision?”

Vanyel closed his eyes, and his hand clenched tightly in ‘Fandes’ mane. He didn’t want to do this, but he didn’t really have a choice. Maybe the peacock Fandes had first Chosen would have turned and gone back to his rest. But Herald Mage Vanyel didn’t have it in him to see pain and simply turn and walk away. “I will do as you have asked,” he replied softly.

The goddess inclined her head, “do you fight for Valdemar alone, Vanyel? Or do you walk this path, in order to give two worlds a chance?”

Vanyel raised his chin and met her eyes, “You have presented me with the Chance to save, not only my own country, but my world, if I am to be given the chance to save another as well, then I shall gladly take it.”

She gazed at him, expression, maddeningly neutral. “Follow the Moon paths back. Change the past so that Velgarth may have a future, and be ready Vanyel, for when the time comes you will be given the opportunity to Change the fate of two worlds.”

He closed his eyes, swallowed his pain and nodded. “Yfandes,” he paused unable to finish the request.

_: I will stay with you, until we must part._ : She said firmly into his mind, _:I have stood beside you through ages Chosen, I love you. I will be with you for as long as I am able. :_

He inclined his head and, trembling like a leaf before a gale, he turned and they walked side by side into the mists parting only to return to their separate pasts. He paused were the roads diverged, anguish flooding his heart and shattering his soul, as the bond that had once been between them dimmed and vanished. The shock of it drove him to his knees and he groped after it drunkenly. It lingered, like the soft caress of a lovers’ lips. There wasn’t the utter desolation, and utter void of Repudiation that Lendel had endured; but he was a shadow of himself, though he wasn’t –truly - shattered. He was a man without a soul, listless and lost.

_Oh Gods, I can’t do this! I Can’t. I’m not strong enough, I thought I , but I’m not. Gods what am I to do? Tell me what am I to do, when I feel as though a chunk of my soul is missing?_ He wanted to scream in anguish. But then as the last lingering echo of that precious bond vanished – he lost the will to do even that. How could a man live like this? He was so all-consumingly empty. He had known much of grief in his life, he’d felt the shock and the pain of Gala’s death echoing down between the bond he shared with his lifebonded Lover. He’d lost ‘Lendel hard on the heels of his Repudiation and Gala’s sacrifice. But none of that had prepared him for the reality of losing Fandes! It felt like someone had torn his beating heart from his chest, and sundered his soul. He lived, only because he had not died. He shuddered, gasped and scrambled to his feet.

_You have a job to do, Herald!_ He reminded himself sharply.

_How Can I be a Herald when I don’t have a Companion?_

Then it dawned on him, he would live for her. To honor her memory, he would do what he had to do, and then he would wait for her. Staggering to his feet, he turned and trudged forward intent on his destination and his mission.

He never saw that cat, which padded silently at Yfandes’ heels.

He set one foot in front of the other, and trudged onward with all the enthusiasm of a man walking to his own execution. Away from Yfandes’ influence, his gift of forsight assaulted him with multiple possibilities. Images flashed before his eyes with each step he took, coalescing into an unintelligible amalgamation of probable outcomes. He focused on the path ahead, and forced himself to take another step.

_Oh Gods if this keeps up will I even be sane on the other end?_

The world around him had consolidated into a deep gray mist, the only light emanating from the path he was following. A voice rang out of the darkness, buffeting him from all sides. Full of playful challenge and impossible to place, it took him a moment to place, by the pattern.

“True Names stop clocks, shadows grant peace and arrests fame. Heed the shock, question who’s truly to blame? Truth is far from plain and how you think it should appear. Would you arrest the plot, Herald, and stride across new frontiers? Grant your enemy his wildest dreams. Past paths lay forward, know the future never as it seems. Who is good and who is wicked, little Herald, all depends on where you stand.” The damn, invisible, cat informed him.

An improbably loud noise, somewhere between a hiss and a roar, rang out to his left and he jerked to the side, reaching for the sword he wasn’t wearing, and fell back at the sight of the large predatory cat leaping towards him, arms out stretched, claws extended, great jaws agape. His foot connected with open air, and he fell, tumbling end over end, off the moon path. To slam back into his mortal body with a very real, and physical jolt on impact.

He moaned with a pain that was more spiritual then physical and took stock of his position, finding himself dizzy weak and nauseated; on his knees in the damp grass.

“Staven’s Dead, and they’re celebrating.”

<(((<>{

 

The star-eyed raised her eyebrows at the cat sitting innocently on thin air beside the moon path, grooming one large paw. “Was that really necessary?”

The cat gazed at her, his face a mask of indifference, before swiping his paw over his ear. She sighed and reminded herself that feline personalities were similar regardless of breed. That this particular cat, could call itself “first born of the gods” didn’t change that fact. Though she wondered what the three species had been like before they’d had the misfortune of getting caught in a magical singularity and been spliced together. The resulting creatures had migrated into her world via one of the magical portholes that existed between all the different realms and ended up living in the Pelagris. For a while it had seemed that the new species would die out. This was partly due to the soul deep geis placed on one of the species by their gods. Noctis was the first of the cubs born on Velgoth to survive into adulthood. Like all of the creatures that migrated between realms, they had adapted to their new home. However, they had never truly been able to escape their original god given duties. They walked a new path now, but coming of age was still dangerous and half of the kittens born died.

Noctis was a dear friend, and had been since he’d stumbled upon her moon paths eons ago, weak and sick from the unfulfilled geis. Despite centuries of friendship with the occasionally aggravating creature, she didn’t often think about what befell the various species when magic decided to change things. She knew what had become of the Pelagris Spider when they’d migrated into another world. They, like the damn cat she had the duel pleasure and aggravation of calling friend, had evolved to fit their new niche. However, in general it wasn’t something she paid attention to.

“Should he choose to take heed, he will arrive at the best soil to plant a seed.” Noctis informed her. “I must consult the proper tale, and find the one who will not fail.” With that the First Male of the Forest Tree Phantoms vanished into the mists, on silent paws.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No story will ever be abandoned. I have simply been in grad school for the last two years and it has drastically cut into my personal writing time. I will be graduating in mid-May and the next chapter of “Of Heralds and Demons” should be out by mid-June by the latest as I am already partly done with it. The next chapter of OH Crap should be out by mid-July. Flight of freedom and “What lies Beneath” soon after that. Read and review please.

 

Chapter 2

That small rational part of Vanyel’s mind that was free of Tylendel’s rage, whispered to him. Urging him to fight for control of his own mind; in a voice that sounded eerily like Yfandes.

_Gods you couldn’t make this easy, could you? What the hell am I supposed to do to stop Gala from repudiating Lendel now?_

He struggled to think around the energy drain of the gate he was tied to, and his lifebonded’s pain and rage. The damn cat’s last words rang out in his head as clearly as if it was shouting in his mental ear. He shook his head, shoved his thoughts aside and tried to decipher the cat’s words. He couldn’t figure it out. But he did know one thing, Tylendel may have had the active gift at the moment, but he was the one with over than 500 years of experience.

_And doesn’t that just make me feel like an old pervert._

He shook off that thought and tried to concentrate. He had far more experience than Lendel did at this point. Magic was all about intent and will. Theoretically if he could just distract Tylendel long enough, he would be able to clamp down on his lifebonded’s gift with an iron fist of his own will. Thus preventing Tylendel from actually preforming the act for which he’d been reputed.

The effort would hurt. It might even kill him. Still he wasn’t important, Tylendel was. So how did one go about distracting a Herald-mage who had been driven mad with grief and not end up a smear on the ground?

In another lifetime Steffen had done just that. Had talked him down out of a pain and terror induced rage, by physically placing himself between Van and the brigand he’d been determined to flatten. That tactic would not work here. For one thing, Steffen had been secure in the knowledge that Van, would never hurt him. For his part, Vanyel was very much aware that if he chose to follow Steffen’s example – he would end up just as flat as the Leshara.

Still he had to try.

“Lendel!” he called, staggering to his feet he grabbed the other boy’s shoulder to steady himself. “Lendel stop. Don’t let them do this to you. You’re a Herald.” The other boy simply shrugged him off, and raised his hands to summon the vectors of his magical vengeance.

Vanyel swore colorfully and in several languages, struggling to keep his balance around the draining presence of the gate. The damn cat’s voice sounded in his mind, repeating the last inane bit of dribble it had spouted before scaring him … well… to life.

_“True names stop clocks_

_What the hell did that mean anyway?_

He turned the riddle over and over in his mind, as vermilion lightning crackled around him. Something about that first line struck a chord within him. True Names. The Tayledras, took use names, and were single-minded about their belief that those names represented them. To the point that they changed their names when something happened that fundamentally changed them. His many times great granddaughter’s husband had changed his name from Songwind to Darkwind after the magical accident that had changed not only his life, but his world view.

 _But what does it mean? Who am I? Vanyel? No… well yes but it just didn’t really encompass all that he was._ Vanyel Ashkevron, somehow that fell even further short. Oddly enough Demonsbane and Shadowstalker came closer.And wasn’t _that_ just infuriating when he’d spent a good part of his life loudly, and exasperatedly claiming that he was “Just another herald.” There was one thing that all Heralds had in common regardless of their individual gifts. One thing that set them apart from everyone else in the kingdom.

And then he knew.

“Herald Mage Tylendel Frelennye, Chosen of Companion Gala. You will stop.” He commanded, in the best approximation of his usual ‘stop-a-mob-in-full-cry-voice.’ His dignity rather drastically diminished when his knees buckled.

Tylendel froze, and in that one moment of shock Vanyel flung himself at his once lover with the full force and power of a mind and will that had protected Valdemar for more than 500 years. He took hold of Tylendel’s gift with an iron grip and forced it down. It took every ounce of his strength, every ounce of his will, but he managed it.

The next few minutes were a blur of activity. Tylendel turned, fury in every line of his body and lashed out at him - physically- with manic strength. The resulting blow sent Van sprawling, and for one terrifying moment he lost his hold of the other boy’s gift and felt it rise up, in response to Tylendel’s call. Lord Evan advanced on them sword in hand, and murder in his eyes. Vanyel all his attention on the ensuing battle of wills – frankly didn’t have the time to spear for the pitiful little man. He held on to Tylendel’s gift with all his might, forcing it back down. Just as Gala thundered through the gate. She charged past where he and Tylendel writhed upon the floor, trumpeting with rage and fear. He felt more then saw her rear in challenge, shielding them from the advancing lord with deadly hooves.

<(((<>{

Yfandes stood in her stall, enjoying the warmth. She was … bereft. It felt as though half of her soul, had been ripped away from her without her-quite- noticing. She snorted and paced her lose box, door-less stall trying to figure out what she had lost. The Companions knew what was currently happening, of course. Hard not to when Gala had flown out of her stall, like a bat out of hell, just a short time ago, hell bent on stopping her Chosen before the boy did something unforgivable. Meanwhile, Taver, Kellen and Felar were scrambling to get themselves and their heralds out to clean up the boy’s mess. Hard on the heels of Gala’s realization of Trainee Tylendel’s location and what he planned on doing, came another realization, centered this time on her Chosen’s lover. Young Vanyel had sacrificed something great to buy them the chance to correct what was about to happen. In doing so, he had bought them time to divert a crisis, generations away. All of the Companions knew this. Even though they did not, as of yet, know just what the boy had sacrificed, they respected it. A few of the older Companions had even commented on the fact that it was unfortunate that the boy had no gifts, since a boy would likely grow to become Heraldic material.

She paused mid stride and pawed the ground. Somehow thinking of the boy she’d seen a few times in the field made her ache. She reared to her full height, giving voice to her frustration and loss. Crashing back to the ground she stood, head hanging low, and tried to sort out her feelings. Heedless of the concerned looks her outburst had garnered.

A small puff of air heralded the arrival of someone else in her stall. She backed up a pace and pinned her ears back at the sight of the large black and silver, long fanged, feline in her stall. “Rujholla, do you so easily misplace half your soul?” The creature enquired.

<(((<>{

Savil sighed, and glanced over at Jaysen. The young Seneschal’s Herald held back a struggling Tylendel from the current object of his manic ire. The young trainee was swearing, and threatening his now apparently former lover with bodily harm. The one time he’d been let lose, he’d thrown himself across the garden, screaming obscenities – and obviously intent upon causing his victim bodily harm. Only to be brought up short when Gala interposed herself between him and Van. Vanyel hadn’t moved, only knelt on the floor and moaned like a dying thing, all of hell in his eyes. The boy looked like he’d been assaulted, and dragged backwards through hell, before being shown the heavens and given a truly odiferous duty and being thrown head first back into his battered body. He hadn’t voluntarily said a word, since they’d pulled a struggling Tylendel off of him.

He’d said some things under truth spell, that while making little sense to Jaysen and Lancir, had greatly alarmed her. Something about the Star-eyed, Wyrsa, and Tylendel being needed if the Circle was to stop “Darkness” bringing about a “new magical Cataclysm.”   When pressed, he’d simply added, “The spell must be shifted,” and fallen silent. Running a hand through her hair she glanced over at the Leshara who’d been cowed into milling silence, after attempting to erupt into an angry mob. The nearest Field Herald was already on his way to help deal with the mess Tylendel’s attempt at revenge had created. Under different circumstances someone would stay to keep the Leshara in hand so they couldn’t get up to mischief, however, these were not normal circumstances. Tylendel needed a mind healer – now, and Vanyel desperately needed the services of a healer as well. He also needed to be disconnected from Tylendel’s damned gate before it killed him. They simply couldn’t afford to waste time babysitting the Lashara, not when Herald Justin was only a few hours ride away.

She restrained her protégé while Jaysen gave Lancir a boost into Taver’s saddle, and swung up onto Felar’s back. Between the two of them they managed to manhandle the struggling, swearing trainee up onto Felar’s back, where he lay draped across Jaysen’s lap, like a misbehaving child about to reap the consequences of his actions.

 _: He will be alright sister._ : Lancir said into her mind, his mental voice grim _. : Beyond reason or not, he is still one of ours, and we will do what we can for him. Gala didn’t repudiate him, so their must still be hope for him.:_

She nodded, dragged Vanyel’s arm across her shoulders, and led the boy to the gate entrance.

“We should move this to the palace grounds.” Jaysen commented. “To many things could go wrong on the trip back otherwise.” He switched seamlessly to mind speech. _: If you want that one to have any mind left, we need to get him disconnected form the thing as soon as possible, and into the hands of a healer. I don’t like how pale he’s getting, that gate is drawing too much of the boy’s life force. We could lose him.:_

She nodded and let go of Vanyel, who slid to the ground in a boneless heep, and pulled the gate energies to herself with an intricate weaving gesture. They changed color from angry vermilion to white, as she made them her own and redirected them, bring them out in the grove temple. Jaysen and Felar thundered through the gate, taking their unwilling burden across with them. Gala and Taver shot through after them, leaving her, Vanyel and Kellen still on the other side. As soon as the way was cleared she reached down, grabbed her nephew and dragged him bodily through the gate, Kellen following at her heels.

She released Vanyel once they were all clear and turned her attention to collapsing the gate. “Jaysen, I need your help,” she called, as the gate fought against her. Between the two of them they managed to collapse it, but instead of dissipating back into the air and ground it surged back down the pathway Tylendel had created and into Vanyel. She was to slow to stop it, though she could have sworn she saw Van visibly brace himself, as the energies arched back into him. He shrieked, voice high in agony and collapsed to the ground. He convulsed, his back bending into a painful arch, limbs thrashing, muscles spasming repetitively. He slammed his head into the ground, not once but twice. For two minutes Vanyel writhed upon the floor, before he crumpled to lay at her feet in a broken heap. The energy arched again, a much smaller jolt of electricity sparking between him and Tylendel. The other boy screamed and slid down from Felar’s back. Collapsing on the floor at Gala’s feet. The Companion nuzzled him desperately, as he began to sob brokenly.

“It’s his fault!” Tylendel sobbed, burring his face in Gala’s neck as the Companion dropped to the ground beside him. “If he hadn’t… I… I could have done it. Staven, they murdered Staven. I could have avenged him… But he held my magic, forced it down.” He babbled into her neck, as Gala tried to sooth him. His head snapped up, and his eyes landed on Vanyel who lay crumpled at her feet, and she winced at the raw, hatred in his eyes. “I will never forgive you for that!” he snarled. “Get out of here, no one wants you here! You ruin everything.”

Savil sighed and along with Lancir, tried to talk some sense into the angry trainee while Jaysen went to fetch the healers. She was on her knees beside Tylendel, trying vainly to comfort him when Jaysen enquired. “Savil, were is your nephew?” her head snapped around, to where she’d left the boy, but he was gone.

<(((<>{

Vanyel ran through the pouring rain, gasping for breath. He was alone. Utterly alone, and there was nothing he could do to change that fact. Tylendel hated him. Would never forgive him for deigning him his vengeance. Yfandes would Choose another Herald, and he would be utterly alone until the Shadow Lover finally called him back into his embrace. Even then, things would never be the same. Steffen would have never existed, and even in the heavens he’d have to share Yfandes with whomever she Chose in his place.

He tried to fight down his emotions, but the 500 year old Herald was no match for the 15 year old boy’s emotions and hormones. He sobbed and ran blindly through the night. He’d though nothing could be worse than losing Tylendel. The idea that there could be a worse pain then losing a lifebond to death, had seemed ridiculous to him in his youth. Now he knew better. Losing Yfandes was much, much worse. Heralds never outlived their Companions. It was a fact he’d known since shortly after he’d been chosen. He’d lived through the pain of repudiation, all those years ago when he’d shared Tylendel’s emotions and experiences. Not having a bond of his own, his experience had been somewhat muted. In this timeline he’d never been Chosen, never bonded to Yfandes. But still the loss ached.

He felt empty, oh so empty. Yfandes was gone, and he was nowhere near complete without her. He was a shadow. It was simply too hard to go on without her. He’d survived the pain of a broken lifebond once. That pain however was _nothing_ compared to the loss of Yfandes! He may have never been chosen in this timeline, but his very soul remembered what it had lost.

_Oh gods he hurt._

He was different now then he’d been before. He was to… hard, to empty. He felt cold and alone, like he was being torn apart on the inside. He wasn’t a part of the world around him anymore. Not truly, he existed but he simply wasn’t. He was an empty shell. Yet he was drowning in a greif so profound, it had set him adrift. He felt lost, so utterly lost. Terribly small and worthless, he would never be happy again… and that made him angry. At least it would have, if he’d just had the energy to become angry.

He’d known grief in his life, and in the long centuries that he’d lived as a part of Sorrows. But he had never known anything like this. He had never imagined that grief, pain and loss like this could have ever existed. He felt as though someone had reached through his chest, taken hold of his still beating heart and torn it free of his body.

He was neither dead, nor alive. He lived because he had not died, yet he was dead because everything within the fragile shell of his human body was dead, his soul shattered and crippled by his profound loss. She was gone, he would never have her back and that _hurt._ He stumbled through the pouring rain, vaguely aware of the fact that his breath was becoming ragged with the effort. He sobbed uncontrollably and tried not to give in to the insidious little voice that urged him to curl up in a miserable ball and let exposure take him. The inane thought that at least if he fell in the Terilee River and drowned, he’d know more peace in this timeline then he had in the last.

He turned, heading for the bank. Easily navigating his way in the pouring rain. He’d lived here for so long he could have found his way blind. He had no intention of drowning himself. Appealing as the thought may have been. He simply wanted to find somewhere dry where he could nurse his hurts and try to remember why he had to go on, when he was so utterly alone. The ground sloped gently below his feet as he approached the river, intent upon finding the little bridge that led to the grove side of the river.

He was lost, so lost in his grief, the idea of running deliberately into the river, or worse turning around and making the same flying leap off of the bell tower that Tylendel had in his original timeline flashed like lightning across the tortured landscape of his mind. Thunder rumbled closer than before…

Something large slammed into him, carrying him off his feet, before he could get anywhere near the river.

 _:Damn it Chosen, I am not fishing you out of that damn river again!:_ Yfandes’s raged into his mind. His head snapped around, and their eyes met as lightning danced madly around them. The wind howled like a soul in mortal fright, whipping around them at gale force, turning the usually placid river into a churning tempus of white rapids.

In that moment he stood in the eye of a hurricane, held fast against the churning storm by the impossibly vibrant blue of her eyes, and fell heart first into peace and love that wrapped around him like a warm blanket. The bond that had lain between them for centuries snapped back into place with a nearly audible crack, a whip of raw blue fire lashing across the surface of his soul, burning away the darkness and the soul deep agony of loss. His heart stuttered, and then began to beat. He was engulfed in a purely physical pain and he relished it the way a drowning man reveled in that first painful breath of air. Basking in the physical sensation like a cat in the sun as his very soul knitted back together. He was glad he was already upon the ground or he would have fallen, his knees incapable of holding his weight, yet he felt so light he was almost certain his soul would float away.

“Fandes,” he gasped his voice a broken, breathy sob, and scrambled to his knees to fling himself at the glorious white angle in equine form. Clinging to her neck in what had to be the most awkward embrace in the history of awkward embraces, he sobbed like a lost child finally come home.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rujholla - sister


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Yfandes lowered herself to the ground and nudged Vanyel towards her back, urging him to mount. Alarm flashed through her when she realized – the boy lacked the strength necessary to drag himself up onto her back. She’d forgotten how badly the catastrophe that had given him his powers had affected him on a purely physical level. She could drag him back into the relative shelter of one of the grottos, like she had in their original timeline, but in truth, Van needed warm, more then he needed dry at the moment. Still, she wasn’t willing to surrender him to the other Heralds. Maybe in the morning, but not right now. The lifebond between him and Tylendel was still intact. Which was an improvement over the last time, however, the boy was radiating hatred and pain. Having blasted the channel between him and Vanyel wide open with his earlier stunt, he was in danger of drowning Vanyel in his malice and other negative emotions.

Vanyel didn’t need that right now, not when his channels were raw still bleeding wounds. To make matters worse, Vanyel was suffering from the truly traumatic effect of having their own bond vanish. Regardless of how brief the loss had been, it had caused soul deep wounds that were, frankly, far more shattering and debilitating then Tylendel’s death had ever been. She’d been insulated by the strength of the Herd. Vanyel hadn’t had that protection, and had suffered the full effects of a Herald who’d lost his Companion.

A part of his soul had literally _died_ when their bond had vanished. That was why Heralds simply didn’t survive the loss of their companions. Being repudiated, although traumatic, was less damaging to the soul then having the bond vanish. A Herald could recover from being reputed, as could the Companion, because part of the repudiation was the unwinding of the bond. It left both parties bereft for a very long time, and they would always mourn the loss. However it was not the soul shattering experience of having a part of their soul literally die as the bond ~~that~~ vanished. It was an effect that Vanyel would never truly recover from.

It happened from time to time that the Monarch’s Own Herald survived their Companion. In such cases it was only the arrival of the new Grove-born that held them to this life. Just as duty, was the only thing that had barred Vanyel’s path to the afterlife. Like those Heralds before him, there would always be something “otherworldly” about her Chosen now because a part of their souls were still together in the afterlife.

The quick, reestablishing of the bond between them was quite literally the only thing that stood between her Chosen and what would have turned into a lifetime of suicidal ideation. Thankfully, the bond between Herald and Companion was soul deep. It didn’t mean that the wounds left by the trauma of their separation would heal immediately, there would be no miraculous healing for her Chosen. What it did mean was that come morning Vanyel would be as firmly bonded to her as he had been before the Star-eyed shattered their bond.

Speaking of which, if she ever saw that half-wit god again, she was going to have some choice words for her. Clearly the starry eyed idiot didn’t understand the bond she’d chosen to mess with, or she’d have unraveled the bond, rather than attempting to make it so the bond had never existed.

She shifted, and tried again to get her Chosen onto her back, but the boy was too badly injured, and he’d lost the years of muscle memory that had allowed Vanyel to pull himself into her saddle when he was drugged up to his eyebrows and on death’s door. She was going to need help to get him to the safety of Companions’ Stable. The problem was she needed to keep him with her, and she didn’t know who to trust.

_: Taver, I need your help. :_ She called, her mental voice laden with worry. She sent him an image of the bridge over the river, so he knew where to come.

It didn’t take long for the stallion to show up, his mane plastered against his eloquently arched neck. He paused a few feet away from her ears cocked slightly forward. _: If you had told me you had found the boy, I could have brought others so that they could take the boy indoors. :_

She didn’t bother trying to explain herself. Desperate to make him understand, she simply flung her memories at him. He emitted a short almost squeal of shock and half reared in alarm. His nostrils flared and his ears snapped full forward, after a moment he snorted and shook his head. _: Let’s get him into the sable, being away from you will do him more harm than good right now. :_

_: I can’t get him onto my back, he’s too weak. :_ She replied.

He cocked his head and examined the huddled, boneless heap of flesh in a near comatose mass at her side, more closely.

_: Come Herald-Mage Vanyel, Let’s get you out of the Rain_. _:_ He said in a firm tone and shoved Vanyel up onto her back with his nose as if he performed such tasks all the time _._

She rose to her feet with deliberate slowness, balancing the now limp Herald upon her back with ease. Taver stayed nearby, ready to offer his assistance with her now unconscious burden if it became necessary.

_: You are right to keep him by you until the bond between you heals, little sister. I fear the wounds to his soul will take much longer to heal. :_ He sighed.

She flicked an ear at him by way of answer and kept walking. They slipped into the stables a few minutes later and she made her way to her stall where she knelt in the thick straw and slid out from under Vanyel’s scant weight.

Vanyel shifted and snuggled up against her side, tucking himself instinctively against her, as he had so many centuries ago in life. She turned her head and nuzzled his wet hair with her nose. It felt strange to be back in the past now that Noctis had helped her to restore her memories. Nothing would ever be the same again, she knew that. Tylendel lived, Vanyel had had a part of his soul torn from him, buying them a chance to change the future and save Valdemar from the cataclysm ahead. For now he was too weak to hold up his own shields, come morning she’d be able to hold them for him at a distance. Still she didn’t like the idea of letting him out of her sight so soon. He shivered and she stretched out her neck nosing the straw up around him to the best of her ability.

The sound of one silver hoof striking the side of her stall with a gentle softness, reminiscent enough of a soft knock that the action could only be deliberate drew her attention. Dancer stood at the entrance to her stall, a thick winter blanket dangling from his teeth.

_: I thought you could use this_. : Her son said in a perfectly mild tone of voice, though she knew him well enough to sense his concern. _: I can’t believe they just vanished the bond and expected him to survive the experience. :_ He added, laying the blanket over her Chosen with the same deliberate gentleness he would have used with a newborn foal. _: It is good to see you made whole at last. Still it is odd, knowing that from your perspective we have all made our individual ways to our temporary rests. :_

_: It is odd to be back,:_ she confirmed in an equally mild tone _. : How is your Chosen? :_

He snorted, _:Driving me to distraction already. I fear teaching her to ride to truly be a lost cause. :_

She sent him a brief flash of her amusement, before returning her attention to her Chosen, grasping the hem of the deep blue blanket, she pulled it a bit higher around Vanyel’s shoulders, remembering his tendency to feel the cold more than most in life. _: Thank you, for your thoughtfulness. :_

_< (((><{_

Savil groaned and sank into a chair beside Tylendel’s bedside. Despite the rain Gala stood in the shelter of a hastily erected lean-to, just outside the door leading into the garden. The boy was curled up in a miserable heap. He’d finally stopped muttering to himself and looked to be falling asleep.

She ran a hand through her hair, and contemplated what to do about her nephew. Vanyel had gone along with Tylendel’s mad plan, but only to a degree. She was thankful for that. She shuddered to think about what could have happened if one of them hadn’t come to their senses. Still, the outcome was that Tylendel felt betrayed and was currently, loudly, denying any feelings beyond hatred and disgust for his former lover. She certainly couldn’t put the two in the same room, not with how unstable Tylendel currently was.

It could only be bad for Tylendel’s emotional state.

Tylendel needed his to be close to his Companion now. As for Van, she’d either move him into Tylendel’s old room, so that Lendel could remain in close proximity of his Companion, or if he could not abide living under the same roof as the boy he currently saw as having betrayed him, she’d see about finding the boy alternate accommodations.

She doubted she’d need to send him home.

Though she would if it came down to that.

She had come to care for her nephew but Tylendel had to come first. He was her son in all but blood and as a Heraldic- trainee, his care was her first priority, Vanyel simply wasn’t as important.

It was unfortunate, but Heralds had to remain neutral, even when family was involved.

The door opened to admit Mardic, who currently bore a closer resemblance to a half drowned street rat, then a Heraldic Trainee. “We’ve found him.” He informed her

She started to rise, only to be gently pressed back into her chair by the still lingering Healer who had once been her lover. “You are exhausted,” he informed her, in a voice that was firm but gentle. “The others can bring him in without you. You’ll do the boy no good if you exhaust yourself further.”

Mardic shook his head, “The Companions found him,” he clarified. “They’ve closed ranks around him, won’t let anyone near him. Hellfires, they won’t even let anyone near the stall he’s currently occupying. One of them damn near took Tantras’s hand off, when he managed to force his way through the living wall of Companions and into the stall. They’ve got him wrapped up in blankets, and firmly tucked between two Companions for warmth. My Forten told me, we can’t even begin to understand what we have on our hands and for now it’s best to leave him in their care, assuming we want him to live.” He paused eyes gaining the unfocussed look they’d all learned to associate with mindspeech.

“What in The Lady’s name?” Savil demanded sharply. Sharing a glance with Jayson and rising, to her feet, back stiff, ready to march across the grounds to Companions’ stable, and demand an explanation. Perfectly willing to drag the errant boy back into the palace where the healers could take a proper look at him.

_: Chosen, You should not!:_ Kellen’s mindvoice was thick with alarm.

_: The boy is going to catch his death of Pneumonia, : she replied sharply. : Besides love we need answers, and Tylendel is in no condition to provide them right now. :_

_:Pneumonia, backlash shock and the trauma of his gifts being blasted open will be the least of his problems if Yfandes doesn’t get him bonded to her properly!:_ the voice that rang across her mind was sharp, alien, and undeniably male. She glanced over at Jaysen and found the young seneschal’s Herald wincing at the sheer volume of the angry broad-send. _: The boy may as well be bleeding out from soul deep wounds, so let me put this into perspective for you, the tragic and violent loss of a lifebond would be less damaging then what the boy has gone through. Leave him be, tomorrow is soon enough to have the healers look at him. All of you go back to your duties!:_

_:I suggest you listen to Taver, Chosen.: Kellen reproved softly_

Stunned beyond measure, Savil sank back into her chair.

<(((><{

Vanyel struggled up out of the arms of sleep. It was a distinctly odd feeling, waking up back in his own body. When he’d first, fallen into this time, he’d been too preoccupied with the crisis at hand to truly take stock of the inherent differences and limitations that resulted from being corporeal for the first time in half a millennia.

He felt smothered somehow, like his skin was too tight.

_Well Herald, you did volunteer for this._ He paused, his very soul screaming in horror and _need_ as he remembered everything he had just given up.

Still half asleep, his soul screamed in panicked desperate need. “Fandes,” he screamed with mind and voice. Disconsolate in the knowledge that the bond between them was gone, forfeited for the chance to buy Valdemar the time it needed to survive the events of the future.

Love and reassurance washed over him across the forfeited bond, shocking him with its gentle warmth. The brush of a velvety soft muzzle across his cheek drew his attention away from the burning agony that was his current emotional and physical state.

_:I’m here, My Chosen.:_ Fandes murmured into his mind. The gentle caress of her mind against his a soothing balm against the hot, burning expanse of his soul. _:I told you once, I would never leave you.:_

He shifted, curled the fingers of his left hand around a handful of her mane, and surrendered himself back into the arms of sleep. As he drifted off again, he realized that he was curled up against his Companion using her shoulder as a pillow as he had so many, many times over the curse of their long relationship. A second Companion pressed against him, so that he lay cradled against Fandes’ shoulder and the great curve of the stranger’s back. “Who?” he enquired softly.

_: I am Dancer,:_ Yfandes’ son said into his mind his tone gentle.

“F’des son,” he murmured, slurring like a drunkard “S’ good t’ see you again.”

Surprise filtered across Vanyel’s mind before the stallion spoke again. _: Rest Herald, we will be standing watch.:_

Van started to nod, but stopped when the motion made the world spin. Instead, he rubbed his cheek against Yfandes’s velvety soft shoulder, snuggled into her side and surrendered himself to sleep.

<(((><{

_: This could be problematic,:_ Dancer commented, his tone deceptively mild.

Fandes sighed, _: I had forgotten just how bad this particular case of backlash shock really was.:_ She replied. _: It’s hard to believe but it’s worse this time around. At least there was a filter between his mind and his mouth last time. :_

_: That is likely due to having some idiot godling simply vanish his bond to you.:_ Dancer responded, mental voice thick with anger and sorrow. _: If he didn’t suffer from some sort of mental illness before, he’s likely to now.:_

_:He tended to brood, before.:_ Yfandes confirmed, _: He’s strong, he’ll pull through. He will not walk this path alone. :_ She added in a firm tone, nuzzling the sleeping Herald as she spoke _: I won’t let him walk alone, I learned my lesson when Tylendel …fell in my timeline. If he can’t walk the path that’s been set before him on his own, then I will carry him. I will not be Gala!:_

Dancer flicked his ears towards her, _: Gala should have known better, she is old enough to know better, and she should have helped her Chosen. I do not know what happened in the original timeline, however, we have all learned our lesson with what just happened. If we have to knock our Chosen down and sit on them to keep them from doing something idiotic we will. Gala was lucky Vanyel had the knowledge and skills needed to restrain, Tylendel until she and the other Heralds could get to the scene.:_

_: It was lucky for Tylendel and Gala, however it will cause problems for Vanyel and Yfandes. :_ Taver informed them, sticking his nose over the low half wall of the stall. _: Vanyel has no business knowing how to do what he did, at this time. There will be questions.:_

Yfandes gave a purely mental groan. That hadn’t occurred to her yet.

_: Maybe we will get lucky and the Circle will simply think it was desperation mixed with whatever the hell Tylendel did to the lifebond that allowed Vanyel to do what he did. :_ Dancer commented.

Taver paused, _: That could work, :_ he replied after a moment _, : I will ensure the others spread that theory to their Chosen. That should be enough for the circle. :_

Yfandes sighed, _: Taver, there is another problem that I am not sure how to handle.:_

Taver’s ears flicked forward in interest. _: Say on little sister. :_

_: Vanyel is not the first Herald to lose his Companion, nor even the first to survive the experience. : She informed the Grove-born, and let him make his own conclusions._

She saw the exact moment the stallion understood her meaning.

_: Aye, : He replied, tone more curious then morose. : But he is the first to find themselves in this situation. The situation is different little sister, the others to survive such an experience were all Monarch’s Own, and another of the Grove-born always came for them. We held them to the land of the living until the bond could solidify, despite their desire to join their former partner in their rest. Why do you bring it up now? :_

_:I am holding him to me now, just as you have held the occasional Monarch’s Own Herald to this world when half their heart and soul, had already departed with their first Companion. But Taver such actions have consequences, and leave a visible mark upon the Herald. How will we explain the aura?:_

Taver’s ears twitched, and his nostrils pinched, in the closest a Companion could come to a groan of frustration _. : We will think of something. :_ He replied at last.

Dancer shifted and flicked an ear in Taver’s direction, _: What is the visible mark and the aura the two of you speak of?: he enquired after a moment._

_: He has a foot in both worlds now, he’ll give off an aura of being somewhat otherworldly now. As if he’s been Fey touch, or walked the heavens. : Yfandes replied sadly._

_: So… spooky?: Dancer clarified._

Taver bobbed his head _, : You could say that yes.:_

_: I have a plain man’s notion. :_ Dancer informed them in a soft almost embarrassed tone. _: According to Yfandes, her Chosen is a mage? :_

_: He was First Herald Mage in the Circle, :_ Yfandes replied her mental voice full of pride in her Chosen, but not in the least boastful. _: They said he had more power than any five Herald Mages combined. :_

Dancer’s ears flicked to her in acknowledgement _. : Use that then, let the circle and others think they are just sensing the truly ridiculous amount of power the boy wields. :_

_: That is not a bad idea, :_ Taver commented _. : In fact, it just might work. The citizens will most likely think it’s because he is a mage anyway. The Circle will take their cue from their Companions. :_ He turned and walked out of the stall he’d been temporarily occupying. He paused, and his mind gently caressed her own and his voice when he finally spoke was full of calm reassurance. _: There has been no death of his soul, little sister, you needn’t worry about that. There is a deep bleeding gash in soul and mind left from the Goddess’s meddling, but there has been no death. He will heal, and fully given time. Though he will be different. He will fear losing you, the way no other Herald will fear losing their Companion. I would recommend he keep a part of you with him always. Regardless of how fey wearing Companion hair jewelry makes the Great Herald Mage look. As to the aura, he will have it, aye, but not for the reason you think. It is true, half a Heralds heart and soul departs for the afterlife if they survive the loss of their Companion, but he has not lost you. Heralds, were not made to see the afterlife and recall it, little sister. Yet he has lived five centuries as a guardian of our northern border, seen the heavens and returned with his memories intact. That has changed him, as it has changed you. :_

_< (((><{_

Savil sighed as she made her way into Companion’s stable with Healer Andrel. Jaysen was currently watching over Tylendel while she went to collect her wayward nephew. Kellen had informed her ten minutes ago that, it was “safe for her to bring a Healer to the stables.”

Savil had to admit that the whole situation was annoying. She was still trying to deal with the mess, the boys had made of things and there, frankly, were not enough hours in the day. The fact that she had to trek out to the stables, on the heels of one of what were quickly becoming Tylendel’s infamous fits of temper, was aggravating in the extreme. In the past two day’s Tylendel had thrown several, horrendous temper tantrums. The situation did not make her happy. She was about to take the boy over her knee.

She’d never realized just how, emotionally overwrought Tylendel was. Though she assumed it was a side effect of his empathy. He had, she now realized, an alarming tendency to disregard the rules, coupled with the bad habit of blundering into things without fully thinking them through. She had once said, she would have to put him in for a position as an envoy when he earned his Whites, due to how twisted his mind was. Now she saw the down side of that cunning mind, if Tylendel didn’t want to follow a rule he simply found a way to work around it. She wasn’t sure how much of that was a result of the recent trauma he’d endured and how much of that she’d simply failed to notice.

She sighed, and reminded herself for the fifteenth time this afternoon that this whole bloody mess was not entirely Vanyel’s fault, even if he had played a crucial role in both creating the mess and apparently in stopping Tylendel from making it exponentially larger.

This whole mess was not the boy’s fault, even if a few of the other Heralds were inclined to place the blame on his shoulders, since it was obvious Tylendel had been blinded by a manic rage at the death of his twin. At the moment she was one of the few Herald-Mages inclined to look charitably on the boy. It was an odd situation, particularly given the fact that according to her own Kellen, and Lancir’s Taver, the Companions had one and all sided with Vanyel. Those bonded to Heralds already in Whites, where abrading her, for failing in her duties to Tylendel after his brother’s death, and they were all citing mental and emotional abuse at the hands of his family as the reason why Vanyel had become too “emotionally dependent upon Tylendel to even dream of standing up to him under normal circumstances.”

She honestly didn’t know how she felt about that. They were right that she could have handled Tylendel better after Staven’s death. At the very least she should have insisted he see a mindhealer. He never would have been able to hide that obsession from Lancir. Still better late than never she supposed. She should probably get Vanyel to a mindhealer as well, she had warned Tylendel that the boy was becoming too dependent on him, but had allowed herself to be convinced that he’d grow out of it in the space of a few years. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t, but one thing was clear… Tylendel wanted nothing to do with him at the moment. The boy had said some pretty vicious things about Vanyel in the last two days. Even going so far as to not only wash his hands of the younger boy, but to loudly proclaim that Savil should have protected him from Vanyel’s “conniving mind.” He’d also muttered several very insulting statements about the younger boy’s character and proclivities.

Something Savil found to be vaguely hypocritical, in the face of Tylendel’s own.

She froze at the sight of Vanyel, curled up between not one but two Companions, and draped in several deep blue, horse blankets. He looked like death warmed over. Hell, she’d seen men dead a week that looked better! He was pale, his face pinched with pain and a profound grief, she couldn’t understand.

“Lendel, m’ s’rry.” He slurred, like a drunk into Yfandes side. “M’ f’ult, it my fault.”

Andrel pushed past her and into the stall carefully approaching the two Companions who cradled the boy as a parent cradled a fevered infant. With a start of pure shock she recognized the second Companion as Taver, and wondered why he’d bothered to become involved.

_: Yfandes, requests that I inform you that she does not care if you are his aunt, nor does she particularly care how dear you are to me and Vanyel, if you hurt her Chosen, she will protect him._ : Kellen paused for a moment before adding _. : She was far less polite about it, truth be told Chosen. Be careful, the boy has been through more than you know and Yfandes is understandably overprotective at the moment. :_

She inclined her head in acknowledgement, and went to her knees beside Andrel in the straw. “Oh Lad,” she whispered as the boy mumbled apologies to someone called Stef for the life he would never be able to lead, and the good he would never do. “You’re a right mess, right now aren’t you?”

Vanyel’s only response was to mutter about wards he should have strengthened, wards he’d promised her he’d strengthen. She blinked in confusion and turned her attention to Andrel in alarm. “What is wrong with him?” she demanded.

“Fever,” Andrel replied shortly, his voice detached and his eyes unfocussed. “He’s got the worst case of backlash I have ever seen and… there’s something else. I don’t understand it. I’ve got a line to him, follow it please. I don’t believe what I saw and I want a confirmation.”

She nodded, and reached for Andrel’s soothing presence, meshing her aura with his and followed the line out and down into Vanyel. His mind swarmed and turned in turmoil. He was stricken with grief. An image replayed over and over in his mind, alternating with others in a churning tangled mass. Tylendel his face twisted with anguish and grief, kneeling beside the ruined head of his Companion while Wyrsa oozed around them turning towards the frightened huddled mass that was the Leshara. Tylendel leaping from the bell tower, face a twisted mask of pain. Ice closing in around them, four black clad mages standing before him, the icy walls of saw-back pass closing in around him as a single white clad, figure astride a Companion spoke a single word into the seemingly endless void between them “No.” A young Bard with fiery red hair, sitting in the courtyard of Forest Reach an odd instrument in his hands singing to an audience of women. A child’s voice called “Uncle Van, Van uncle Van, as a small whirlwind launched itself into his arms. Tylendel very much alive, clinging to his companion as he spat hateful words at him.

The images flashed before her as she tried vainly to shake them off, finally she slipped past them and into a dark grief filled void, where the depth of his emotion threatened to consume them both. She had known the depth of Tylendel’s feelings but it seemed Vanyel’s ran just as deep. What threw her back with a shock like a fierce blow was not the depth of his emotions, nor what was obviously images fueled by fever induced delirium. No what stunned her the most was the depth of the gifts the boy now claimed. Van had all of the Heraldic Gifts, and the channels had somehow been blasted open to their fullest. The boy had mindspeech, fetching, foresight, empathy and enough firestarting to ensure he never had to use a tinderbox again. But what shone through like a roaring flame in the dark of night, was the all-important, coveted Mage-Gift. Hell the Boy even had a touch of the Bardic Gift! The boy had more gifts then any five full Heralds, and all of his channels were raw bleeding wounds. It was a wonder he hadn’t gone mad from the pain alone. But there was something else lurking in the darkness, Tylendel’s voice echoed down a bond that glowed red, with anger and hate. The words and feelings were muted and soft, garbled by the intensely blue glowing shield that strived to keep them out. His Companion trying desperately to shield him from his lifebonded’s pain, anguish, and irrational hatred. But the worst of it was a raw bleeding gash, that his companion was holding together, her presence on it like a soothing balm. Reaching out from the boy was the frayed end of another bond, it fluttered in the nonexistent wind, open and raw.

“Great Good Gods!” She demanded “what could have done that?” she paused, ignoring her former love in favor of contemplating the young boy in front of her. That link between him and Tylendel, had it always been there? Or was it the result of Tylendel’s assault on the Leshara? And what of the images in his mind? The boy had no business knowing what a Wysera was, let alone what they looked like and that a pack of the things could fell a Companion. What did it all mean?

_: The child is lifebonded to Tylendel. :_ Kellen informed her impatiently _. : He is drowning in Tylendel’s malice. As to the rest of your concerns, the boy has foresight. He saw what would have happened had he not stopped his lover. He is having trouble keeping the possibilities straight. Yfandes is doing what she can for him, but until he heals fully, her touch hurts as much as anyone else’s. We can’t give him to the healers or Tylendel will drive the boy to suicide with his malice within a day. Neither can we keep him here much longer. He is ill and we cannot care for him. Not as he needs. :_

<(((><{

Yfandes sighed and shifted a little closer to the wall, and tried not to openly show her contempt for Gala, but at the same time she had no wish to touch the other Mare. Stupidity might be catching. She had tried reminding herself that everyone made mistakes, but Gala’s had cost Tylendel his life in the original timeline, and had resulted in injuries to her own Chosen. Yfandes sighed and stamped one silver hoof in frustration, she could feel Vanyel’s turmoil, and hear the malice filtering past the bond between the boys, even as she tried desperately to shield Van from its affects. Still his channels were raw, and his mind too fevered to bring up his shields on his own. She could and was shielding him from every outside mind, aware of how much even her own mind against his own hurt him right now. But there was little she could do against Tylendel.

If only that damned Healer had been willing to let them keep Van in the stable, proximity was making Tylendel’s voice stronger, his emotions coming across the lifebond more vibrantly then they had in the safety of Companions Stable.

Abruptly something changed, Malice and Hatred flooded down the lifebond swamping her shields smashing through them like a tidal wave against a sand bag wall. Pain flared down her bond to Vanyel. Terror and panic griped him, as he fought for breath, the Herald-Mage lashed out instinctively, raw channels screaming with the effort, even as he pulled the blow.

_:Van! :_ She screamedwith mind and voice, ignoring Gala’s frantic cry or _:Tylendel:_

Inside Vanyel let out an agonized wail, a sound like a tortured animal in its death throws. The ground shook, the walls trembled, the palace foundations rocked, and the very ground seemed to convulse. It pitched and rolled with enough force that she was thrown from her hooves into Gala. She didn’t stop to think, scrambling to all four hooves she flung herself at the garden door, carrying it off its hinges, skidding and sliding on the undulating floor as she forced her way through the room Vanyel had once shared with _that man_ and into the common room, seeking out the bedroom that had once belonged to Tylendel. That was where her Chosen was and that was where she needed to be.

She leapt, gracefully over Tylendel who lay groaning in the doorway where Vanyel had thrown him, amidst a veritable explosion of feathers and shredded fabric. She paid the little shit no heed and skidded into the smaller chamber. Ignoring the Herald- Mages frantically trying to pin down her chosen she lunged for the bed, skidding when the foundations rocked again. Hindquarters skewing as her front hooves slid one way and her rear hooves slid the other she smashed into the wardrobe, ignoring the bright flare of pain she reached out her neck, shoved the two heralds off of Vanyel, grabbed her Chosen by the back of his night shirt and dragged him off the bed.

The resulting impact with the floor jarred Vanyel enough to give him something to focus on past his panic attack, and gave him an avenue out of the pain loop he’d managed to become stuck in. Untrained, he never would have managed it on his own. With luck Savil and Jaysen would simply think she’d shocked him awake. Having managed to pull Van out of his panic attack and the resulting pain loop she reared up pivoted on her hind hooves and dropped to all fours. Ears pinned and upper lip curled back, she dropped her head, snaked her neck, scraped one silver hoof against the floor, and advanced on Tylendel, one menacing step at a time.

_: If you value your life, :_ She spat in a viciously loud broad send. _: get out of my sight! :_

 


	4. chap 4

Chapter 4

Savil glanced out the garden door at her nephew. The boy was curled against his Companion’s shoulder, wrapped in quilts against the autumn chill, one arm wrapped against Yfandes neck. The boy still looked terrible, but this was a good sign that the Herald-Companion bond was taking root. She turned her head and took in the sight of her favorite protégé. Tylendel sat on his bed knees drawn up to his chest, rocking back and forth as he muttered to himself. She closed her eyes against the pain.

Strange that it was the one in more danger of dying ere the sun dawn who was improving while the one in better physical health deteriorated. Vanyel’s progress was slow and she still feared for his life, but at least he was improving. Still she didn’t know what to think about the earthquakes that shook the palace every night. They couldn’t figure out what was triggering them. To make matters worse he kept throwing Tylendel around.

She was not sure what to make of that. According to Lendel, he’d tried to sooth Vanyel out of a nightmare and Van had lashed out at him. Somehow she didn’t believe him. She wanted to, wanted to believe he was softening towards his former lover. However, his behavior when the sun was high contrasted with the image he was trying to project. Even now Tylendel was muttering obscenities directed at both Vanyel and the Lesharas. Seeing Lendel like this, broke her heart.

She turned her attention back to her nephew she didn’t knows what to think, she worried for Vanyel yet she also resented the boy for the sheer amount of trouble he was causing her, and the attention he was taking away from Tylendel. She knew it wasn’t Vanyel’s fault and that the boy had actually prevented an even worse catastrophe, but it didn’t change the fact that she wanted no needed to help Tylendel and Vanyel was currently in the way. Still both boys were here problem and she couldn’t just hand Vanyel over to another Herald. At the moment the thing she found most stressful was the boy’s habit of shaking the palace in his sleep. It was disrupting the already limited sleep she’d been getting for the past week in addition to disturbing _everyone else._ The Circle was pressuring her to figure out the problem and put an end to it. Hence the current arrangement that had Vanyel outside with his Companion despite the cold. She had come up with this idea along with Jaysen and Andrel after a few hours of debate, just last night after being awoken yet again by the boy magically tossing the palace around in his sleep. It was their hope that allowing Vanyel and Yfandes this time to strengthen the bond would result in the end of the nighttime excitement.

A knock on the door drew her attention away from her nephew. In the other room she heard Donni pad over to answer it.

“Please, I’m Van’s sister, just let me talk to my aunt.”

Savil sighed, just what she needed more family obligations complicating her life. Still there was only one member of Vanyel’s family likely to visit him after the rumors that had been coming out of the court since Sovvan night. She turned and strowed out of the room that had once been Vanyel’s sanctuary and headed for the common room, and paused with the door half closed behind her at the sight of the girl before her. She could have been herself at seventeen or eighteen. _If this is Lissa then it’s no wonder she went for the guard, She’s got the damn Ashkevron nose._

“I’m Lissa,” the girl informed her in a mild tone. “You must me my Aunt Savil, you have the nose. How is Van? Can I help?”

Savil smiled, deciding that she liked this blunt girl. “I don’t know,” She replied motioning towards the sofa, “first tell me what you’ve heard.”

<(((<>{ }<>(((>

Savil groaned, and leaned into Jaysen’s shoulder as Andrel got Vanyel to drink yet another potion. She was exhausted and confused. Vanyel had not reacted to his father with anything approaching what she had anticipated. He’d seemed genuinely happy to see the man at first and Withen, to his credit, had kept up a passable facsimile of genuine concern. Then, all at once Vanyel had reared back as though struck by a real physical blow, and sent his father sprawling. He’d staggered to his feet and let his father have it, both verbally and magically. Thankfully he hadn’t done anything to hurt Withen, dented his pride and given him a verbal thrashing about his “hidebound, provincial, back water prejudices.”

At first Lissa had been alarmed, but she, Medrik and Donni had assured her that since Yfandes was unalarmed there was no reason to fear for concern. However one of the things Vanyel had yelled at his father had raised the hair on the back of her neck. It had the feel of an old argument, a long healed wound ripped cruelly open. It had been odd, given what she knew of her nephew and how recent a discovery his sexuality was for everyone himself included. However, that oddity could be excused given the situation and the events of the last week. What could not be explained away, was Vanyel’s exact wording. “My sexuality does not make me a perverted little catamite father! The fact that I am Shay’a’chern does not make me a rapist! Just because I am lifebound to another person who happens to have been born into the same sex body as I was does not mean I am going to proposition every impressionable young man I come across. So you can just stop thinking those horrible things you perverted, derelict, old curmudgeon!”

It would have been amusing had she not possessed a keen awareness of the fact that, Vanyel had no plausible excuse for having anything resembling an inkling of the term “shay’a’chern.” Still after this afternoon’s excitement and the convulsing fit that had been the indirect result Andrel had decided to heavily sedate Vanyel for the night. Still having the boy down Argonel, a dangerous muscle relaxant and sedative was one thing, the fact that Andrel had decided to compliment it with a lesser known, new drug that blocked off a person’s access to their gifts was alarming.

She just hoped they weren’t making a mistake.

 

<(((<>{ }<>(((>

 

Tylendel rocked back and forth on the foot of the bed he’d once shared with Vanyel. Thoughts swirled in his mind until they broke like wind harried waves against the rocky outcroppings of a jagged shore. They came and they went whispering into his mind, until he could no longer keep a grasp on anything more substantial than the fact that there was an all-consuming void where Straven had once been. A void that cried out in Staven’s voice, cried out for blood, begged him to protect what little was left of their clan. A clan the Leshara had sundered, His mother, his father, his twin, they cried out in one harmonized voice begging him to seek vengeance. To honor the family by washing the world clean of the Leshara and any who would help them, regardless of the consequences.

 _: Chosen you are ill:_ Gala said softly into his mind, as if she to feared to wake the vengeful dragon from its fitful slumber beneath the surface of his thoughts. _: When you are well again you will thank your lover for staying your hand:_

He slammed his shields up, and tried to force her out of his mind. She was just one more voice in the cacophony. One more voice, beyond his own, filling his mind. One more voice telling him what to do. One more voice trying to influence his decisions. He couldn’t, couldn’t figure out which voice to listen to. Couldn’t figure out which voice was his own and which voices were not.

 _You know her voice,_ something whispered, _she is not you. Don’t listen to her she just wants to keep you from your rightful vengeance._

He closed his eyes and rocked faster as another voice took up the litteny. _Who is she to tell you what to do?_

_Who is she to make dicisions for your family? It is a matter of honor. Let their blood stain the ground. Blood for blood, it is the honorable thing to do. Nothing but a horse, would you chose a horse over your family? A horse, over vengeance for your slain kin. She knows nothing, nothing at all. They are not infallible, they are horses. Pretty and white, nothing more, nothing less. Nothing special, that traitor has one. He blinds it the way he blinded you. You must free her from him, take vengeance for your family. Let blood flow, avenge your family._

_Van oh van, what is wrong with me?_

_Staven, they killed Staven._

_Vanyel, the_ Leshara probably sent him.

_Planted him here to lead you astray_

_Nothing more than a clever way to fool you into giving them information._

_He’s one of them._

_He’s one of them._

_Foolish horse_

<(((<>{ }<>(((>

 _:Savil, the boy!:_ Kellen’s shout jerked her awake seconds before Yfandes’ terrified scream woke the entire palace. The palace shook, and the floor rolled, magic hung heavily in the air. Magic that felt like Vanyel. She was on her feet and running before she’d even made the conscious decision to do so. She hit her bedroom door with enough force that it banged against the common room wall, and it was a good thing she’d left the door cracked or it would have been one more door requiring repair in her suite.

An unprecedented sight brought her up short in the common room and she froze for a moment in shock. Yfandes, barred the way into Vanyel’s room, trumpeting in furry and doing her level best to trample the threat to her Chosen. That alone was not surprising, that she needed to protect him in his own quarters, however was a different kettle of fish entirely. That she had been moved to attack another Companion’s Chosen was staggering in its implications.

The door into the common room struck the wall with a loud crash as Mardic stormed in, Donni on his heels. The pair likewise froze in shock a second trumpeting neigh tore the silence asunder and Gala arrived in a clatter of hooves upon stove. A sharp mental prod from her own Companion got her moving again, as Donni, once a bright little apprentice thief, dove beneath the flailing hooves of the two enraged Companions.

Savil flung herself into Vanyel’s room and froze at the sight of Donni, hands clasped around Vanyel’s bleeding wrists in a grip that left her knuckles white. The whole room trembled. Blood pooled on already saturated blankets and a bloody knife lay on the floor, mute evidence of what had transpired. Her first thought was attempted suicide, but that answer made no sense when paired with the fact that Andrel had left the child to drugged to move just scant hours prior. Nor did it explain the furious Companion. She swallowed a whimper at the obvious conclusions her mind was drawing, and flung herself at her nephew, grasping the exposed flesh below Donni’s blood soaked hands, she flung out lines of power trying desperately to stem the blood flow long enough for help to arrive.

 _: Mardic, get a Healer, any Healer. :_ She shrilled, mindvoice laced with panic, as the trembling faltered, slowed and then faded away altogether _._

The only answer she got was the slamming of the door into the hall, the angry screams of the battling Companions, and a strangely muffled _thwump_ followed by the distinctive _crack_ of shattering wood. A brief moment of despair for the furnishing filled her, and was shoved aside as she gazed down at the pale face of her nephew. The trumpeting neigh of an enraged stallion rent the air and the common room fell silent. Then like a blessing form the Lady herself Andrel scrambled into the room, Mardic breathing down his neck and threw himself into the battle for Vanyel’s life.

She felt his energies coursing out to join her frantic spells, and she redirected her own efforts, lending him her strength so that he wouldn’t falter and in a minute felt Donni and then Mardic join her, lastly she felt Jaysen’s power join them though she had no idea when the young Seneschal’s Herald had even arrived.

In that moment she could not have cared less, all that mattered was the meshing of their auras, and the steady stream of energy coursing between them and into Andy as he worked to save Vanyel. At last the healer sighed and took his hands away, leaving behind a matched pair of angry red scars which ran along the inside of Van’s arms from wrist to elbows. Given time they would fade to thin white lines, an ugly reminder of the events that had just occurred.

Jaysen scooped Vanyel up out of his bed, while she and Donni hastily stripped the blood soaked bed and Mardic ran for clean bedding. Once the bed was made up fresh Jaysen shewed them all out and set about gently stripping Vanyel and tucking him into bed. Sighing, Savil glanced over her shoulder one final time, reassuring herself that the boy yet still lived; and went to see how much of the common room had survived the commotion. She winced at the utter destruction that had once been a well-organized and fairly clean room. Yfandes stood braced in front of Vanyel’s door, ears pinned, and eyes white rimmed with rage. Every line of her body radiated anger and defiance. Tylendel sat on the floor in the opposite corner, his pose almost casual, in the middle of an exuberant rant about the Leshara, Vanyel, and several other things that made no sense. Gala stood between him and the very real threat of Yfandes, her head hung low in exhaustion, but she held one hind hoof cocked in a stance Savil recognized from her days at Forest Reach. _Try me_ that hoof said, _try me and see what happens._

Savil shuddered, it felt like the calm before the storm, one wrong move and violence would erupt between the two mares again. Fortunately, Taver seemed to have drawn the same conclusion. He stood half in the common room, using the physical barrier of his own body to separate the two smaller mares.

<(((<>{ }<>(((>

AN

Hope you enjoyed. For those of you following my other fics. I am back. My Heralds of Valdemar xover shall be picking up again as soon as my editor/ co-author have given it a once over. The Harry Potter x overs should be up and running in the next two weeks. As for Kyou Kara Maou, those should be up and running soon as well. Also Check out my AO3 account, I am reposting things there as well.


	5. Why we dont wake sleeping mages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N   
> Sorry about the delay, life happened. For those of you waiting on “Of Heralds and Daemons” I have had the chapter done since June however WereCat has not been able to edit it yet. So I leave it up to you do you want it posted asap or do you want me to wait for edits?  
> In regards to Tylendel, Mercedes Lackey wrote the following about him in one of her novels, and it is from this point of reference coupled with the events of Magic’s Pawn that I am expanding the Character. Steffen and Tylendel may have been the same soul, but they were not the same person. They had different experiences and were shaped by vastly different lives. While I do believe that Tylendel as a character could have eventually grown into someone similar to Steffen in personality. I also believe that Steffen at the age of 18 was far more mature then Tylendel at 17.   
> ’Lendel was many things, but thinking wasn’t his strong suit.: It was extremely odd to hear someone talking about an historical, tragic figure as if he were a—:Emotional, overwrought, impulsive manchild who made a habit of blundering about regardless of consequences and paid the price, and I would rather not go into it any further.: Mags blinked a little at Dallen’s vehemence. It almost sounded as if Dallen had been . . . present at the time of the tragedy!

Chapter 5

Savil slouched in her chair, her face buried in her hands as she tried to wrap her head around what had just occurred. Lancir squeezed her shoulder in friendly reassurance. “I know it is hard little sister, but it must be done. The boy is dangerous.”

Elspeth sighed, “His Companion still stands behind him, so his insanity must be a temporary affliction. It is a hard decision but we must consider what is best for Valdemar and not just the two boys in question. The best thing we can do for Tylendel is place him where he can get the help he needs. He will have the best mindhealers the crown can provide him with. As for Vanyel,” the old queen paused. “Savil the child will be dangerous unless we find a way to get his gifts under control. That he possesses the raw magical talent to toss the very palace around by its foundations is astounding, that he possesses the ability to do so through a haze of drugs meant to cut off his access to said gifts and nearly lethal blood loss, is frankly alarming. If there is a chance that your friends can teach him, we must take it.”

Savil sighed and inclined her head, torn between relief that the decision had been made and anger at the fact that she was going to have to abandon the boy she saw as a son in his hour of need, to deal with her nephew. However, as a Herald, duty had to come first. There was only one group of people who had even the slightest hope of training Vanyel, or at least containing him, and she was the only Herald with access to them.

“You will do your best for Lendel while I am gone?” she enquired softly.

“Everything in our power, will be done.” Elspeth assured her.

Savil sighed, inclined her head and rose to her feet. She had preparations to make.

<(((<>{ ∆ }<>)))>

Savil shuddered as she followed Andrel down the narrow side corridor tucked into an out of sight nook in the Healer’s Collegium. As a Herald she had never been in this section of the Collegium, and it – frankly – gave her the creeps. The corridor itself was narrow, all the better to accommodate the unusual thick, deep walls and the heavy doors, that led into small single occupant rooms. She shuddered again, Heralds usually got their own rooms whenever they faced an extended stay in the house of healing, but these were not the rooms usually put to the task. She shuddered again as the overwhelming feeling that _everything_ was just slightly wrong assaulted her other-senses. The walls here were so thick they muffled sound, so that everything bore an odd muted quality and her own booted steps held a peculiar echo. The Air wasn’t stale but it felt as though it should be and she had the sinking suspicion that she and Andrel saw things in a very different manor from anyone else, lurking beyond the heavy doors.

_: That thought is tragically true love. : Kellen said into her mind, her mild tone wrapping her in comfort with its familiarity. :No one in that wing of Healers sees things quite the way anyone else does.:_

She inclined her head, it made sense, though it broke her heart to think of Tylendel in a place like this.

“Here we are,” Andrel informed her in a tone that was intentionally mild, yet somehow managed to be gentle. He fished a key out of his pocket and slipped it into the lock, letting them both into a room that was stark and almost bare. The only furniture was an iron framed bed, a small table and two small iron chairs. All were bolted to the floor. The room itself had been painted a soft, soothing rose color and accented in cream. It was also bare of anything its occupant might be able to turn into a weapon. Designed to prevent it’s occupant from finding anything they could use to hurt themselves or another.

Her heart lurched at the sight of Tylendel, the boy sat on the narrow bed rocking to and fro, muttering to himself.

“Dead.” He muttered. “They killed him, killed Steven. Dead, gone. Empty, alone, my brother, my twin. Dead, they killed him, they killed Staven. Dead gone. Oh gods, he’s gone, he left me. Staven, oh Staven. They killed you. I tried, I tried, I tried to avenge you. Lord I swear it, I tried, I tried. I would have succeeded, should have succeeded. Their blood should have soaked the ground. He betrayed me. He betrayed me. He was supposed to be the one person I could trust, he betrayed me. Sided with them. They killed you, Lord dark they killed you, they killed you.”

He rocked back and forth keeping up his odd rant.

She closed her eyes against the pain welling up inside her at the sight of what the last few weeks had reduced him to. After a moment she settled herself down on the edge of his bed, pulled the boy up into her lap and rocked him, like a small child. “It will be alright Kechara.” She whispered into the mop of curly golden blond hair.

She stayed until morning, rocking the shattered boy she saw as a son back and forth in her arms until he finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep. She slipped out of the room as the sun peaked in the eastern horizon and trudged across the familiar ground to the palace and her own rooms and attempted to ignore the way the events of the last week left a lasting taint upon even the brightest of dawns.

Jaysen met her at her door, her travel packs slung over his shoulder. “Ready to go?” he asked, tone grim.

She inclined her head, not trusting her voice and disliking the lie even as she made the small gesture. “As I’ll ever be,” she said once she’d managed to work her way past the suffocating lump in the back of her throat.

Beyond Jaysen Andrel stood up from the plush armchair he’d been enthroned in hefting a set of packs as he did so. “Your niece, packed them,” he informed her in a tone that belied the serious nature of the trip they were about to embark upon. She nodded, accepted her packs from Jaysen and turned her gaze upon the two youngsters occupying the sofa. Lissa cradled her younger brother in much the same way she had cradled Lendel, holding Vanyel to her in a manner that suggested she was his mother rather than his sibling. She considered that, weighing it against the little she knew of Vanyel’s life.

If she was honest with herself, she honestly didn’t know how to handle the situation. Vanyel needed help, in some ways more than Tylendel did. Tylendel may have lost his twin, but Vanyel had lost everything the moment he decided to stand against his lover. Withen was to hidebound to ever accept his son, and his lover had just made an attempt on his life. She closed her eyes against the pain, and made her way over to her brother’s children as soon as she was sure she had a tight enough reign on her thoughts and emotions that the boy wouldn’t pick up anything from her. Dropping to her knees she brushed inky black hair out of the pale face and gazed down at the boy. “we’ve made a right mess of your life, haven’t we.” It was a statement and not a question and the truth behind it made her heart ache.

“Withen would have chosen this path, as soon as he discovered Vanyel’s proclivities.” Lissa said sadly. “Better it happens now, when everything else will overshadow being disowned and he has a Companion to shield him from at least some of the fall out.” The girl replied with a cool practicality.

Savil nodded, though she burned with anger at her brother for making an already difficult situation worse. She just hopped that Treesa would be able to dissuade her husband from taking this particular course, after all being Chosen took Vanyel out of the line of succession for any of the family holdings, so hopefully once Withen had calmed down he would decide that the benefits of having a Herald for a son outweighed the drawbacks of said son’s proclivities. However, given Treesa’s previous record in regards to protecting her first born son and Withen’s backwater prejudices, she was preparing for the worse.

_:If it comes down to it, Chosen, Yfandes will be able to support the boy through it.: Kellen informed her calmly. :despite the relatively brief amount of time that has passed since Shoven night the bond between Fandes and Vanyel is progressing into one of the strongest I have ever seen, looking at the bond between them one would think Vanyel was Chosen decades ago.:_

Savil felt herself relax a bit at that, at least if the worst came, the boy would have his Companion to lean on. She took herself firmly in hand and resolved to be there for the boy as best she could. Vanyel was family and right now, he needed her. She was not his mother, and could never be. In her heart she saw Tylendel as a son, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be mentor, friend, protector and teacher for Vanyel. Both of the boys needed her. For now there was nothing she personally could do to help Tylendel. However she could help Vanyel. She worry about getting the boy the help he needed and then she would find a way to help Tylendel.

_Maybe her old friends would have some ideas on that front as well._

_< (((>{ }>)))> _

_Savil sat in the cave she’d used to form the gate, shivering from cold and reaction, doing her best to cradle the catatonic boy resting half in her lap. Jaysen had been unhappy about leaving them on their own in a place that looked so strange but the Hawkbrothers were notoriously xenophobic and it was entirely likely that they would have shot Jaysen long before she got the chance to introduce them properly, particularly if Jaysen were to wonder off on his own. No it was better that they wait it out alone. Starwind or Moondance should arrive shortly._

_“Hopefully one of my friends will be able to help you.” She said softly, noting the way Vanyel pressed into her side, as though seeking and expecting comfort, support and protection. She marveled at the trust the boy seemed to have developed in her in such a short time. Hopefully she wouldn’t do anything to break that trust. “Lord and Lady know you’ve been given precious few reasons to trust adults, child.”_

“God of my fathers, what have you brought us sister?” Starwind enquired.

Savil jumped at the sound of her old friend’s voice, looking up as the two white clad men seemed to materialize out of the darkness. Moondance winced, going to his knees beside Vanyel and gently resting two of his fingers on the boy’s temple. “Such darkness,” he whispered “such pain.”

“Moondance?” she queried, alarmed by the statement.

The younger man shifted his gaze, looking up at her out of magic bleached blue eyes. “Not evil sister. Simply darkness, and pain. It is as though he has seen the heavens and been returned to us. All of his channels have been ripped open. Hundreds of possibilities laid bare. He must adapt to survive. The man he once was, he can never be again. He must forge a new path to find the Herald he was always supposed to be. The road will be difficult.”

Savil digested that, and tried to figure out how to formulate a reply. In the end she settled for giving the two men a brief explanation of what had occurred over the course of the last few weeks.

Starwind sighed, watching as Moondance pulled himself up into Yfandes’ saddle, before handing him Vanyel with the same deftness and care one would hand over a sleeping infant. “You will have to give me a more in-depth explanation once we have reached the safety of the vail.” He said after a moment, pulling himself up behind her. “As for the other boy, we may be able to do more for him then your healers can, however, we should concentrate on getting this one stabilized first.”

<(((<>{ }<>)))>

Moondance sighed as he completed the magical healing young Vanyel had required. He was exhausted, confused, and a little alarmed at what he had witnessed in the course of the boy’s healing. He didn’t know what to make of it, reincarnation was possible he knew that much, but this wasn’t reincarnation, at least, not as he understood it. The boy seemed to possess very specific memories of what was and what might have been. He would have to discuss the possibilities with Starwind. He extended a purely mental hand out to his shay'kreth'ashke[i].

Starwind took his outstretched mental hand with the same ease of taking a physical hand and allowed him to draw him into the child consciousness. Vanyel’s thoughts drifted around them a churning chaotic mess, ebbing and flowing like tangled strands of yarn upon a gale-force wind. Snatches of past, present and various futures buffeting them to and fro, drowning them in a disorienting torrent.

_:We must teach the child to shield before he inadvertently creates more problems, his gifts are quite strong. :_ Starwind sent, mental voice tinted with distress. They reached out together, spinning shields around themselves as they prepared to raise young Vanyel’s shield, and show him how to ground, center and control the basic fundamentals of his most powerful gift.

Vanyel’s consciousness rose, with all the abrupt grace of a striking snake, lashing out to swat them out of his mind with the delicate grace and brutal force of a seasoned, battle-hardened mage. A purely physical concussive force slammed into them, flinging them bodily across the room to connect with the far wall. Shields snapped into place around the boy’s mind and rose around him in a physical blue swirling barrier. Power crackled in the air with ominous promise, as the boy climbed to his feet. His limbs trembled as he braced himself, his stance ringing with unnatural strength. A seasoned veteran, holding the reigns of an untrained, untried youth’s body.

His eyes glowed an ominus blue with suppressed power, as he took in the room and its occupants, the expression on his face one of cold calculation. Moondance reached out and stayed his shay'kreth'ashke’s hand as the man gathered himself for a fight. The situation was dangerous enough, they didn’t need a mage duel taking place in his bedroom. Particularly not when the situation had just proven his suspicions, this was no untrained youth though the physical form may have been such.

Instead they waited for the Herald –Mage to get his bearings. After a moment the boy cocked his head to the side, silver eyes taking on the same faraway look as Wingsister Savil when she spoke with her Lasha'Kaladra[ii]. After a moment the boy relaxed, tension drained out of his body, until he seemed to collapse in on himself. Moondance surged forward as the child groped for the bed behind him, with a muttered Tayledras curse. He caught the boy by the shoulders and lowered him back upon the bed, “rest Wing-brother” he whispered. “You are safe within the vale.”

Vanyel’s response was, an exhausted jumble of various languages.

_: He is not as he seems:_ Starwind commented _._

Moondance raised an eyebrow at his lover _. : No,:_ he agreed _, :he is older, and has seen more than wingsister Savil suspects. The question is why has the Goddess interfered?:_

_:And how much should we inform Savil of?:_

 

[i] Lifebonded lover of the same sex

[ii] Tayledras Term for a Herald’s Companion


	6. Chapter 6

A tall slender woman, fine of bone and fair of complexion entered the elegantly opulent room with unearthly grace. Her tresses swept across her back like a waterfall of purest ice. Forest green eyes alighted on the room’s only furnishing – a loom that wove itself, producing the most exquisite of tapestries. A strange combining of yarn caught her attention, one bright strand of shining blue had somehow become caught upon a strand of finest, glowing amber. For a moment she froze in shock, before rushing to the loom, skirts gathered in one hand. This was a problem she would have to correct and correct fast.

She drew up short noting with visible relief that the two threads were only touching and not knotted or worse –felted- together. Inspecting the intricate weaving with a deft hand she pinched the bridge of her nose in aggravation and wondered how to undo the problem without unwinding the tapestry. To do so would be the greatest of taboos, but she could see no other recourse.

_Perhaps if I ensure the yarn is given more space…_

Blue and amber yarn balls burst into the air. A black, 50 pound scimitar toothed, cat leaping straight up after them, one paw extended claws out stretched. The balls flew across the room and collided with the far wall. Lose yarn trailing and tangling in their wake. The cat twisted in midair, powerful hindquarters bunching beneath its lithe body, it sprang off of the wall and batted the yarn out of the air. Pouncing atop them it pinned them to the ground like an ungainly bicolored bird, rumbling a deep throaty purr as it kneaded the wool with long curved claws. Turning its head it gazed up at her out of to intelligent eyes, grinned and vanished into the shadows.

Only the two balls of misplaced, disheveled yarn remained in mute testament to the animal's existence. With a sigh she bent to inspect the wool. Shock and mild horror filled her as she took in the full extent of the damage. The yarn was knotted together in places, but that was easily rectified.

No the problem was in the yarn itself. The two strands had become loosely felted together. Even if she could rework the tapestry, and untangle the mess of the yarn the two strands would always be tainted. She'd never be able to completely remove all traces of one from the other.

Not without re-carding and re-spinning the yarn. Unadvisable and forbidden.

Muttering under her breath about “damn medaling cats” and “The Deep Magic” she set about salvaging the yarn.

 

< (((<>{   }<>))) >

Sweat rolled down Vanyel’s back as he sat in a once familiar pose on the floor of Starwind’s workroom. Ignoring the pain in his knees and thighs, he focused every ounce of his energy into the very real problem of controlling the small palm sized ball of mage fire, hovering above the small inch high wax candle in front of him. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to make the flame any smaller. He alternated between abject humiliation at his own magical impotency and mild aggravation at the decidedly strange feeling of having someone actively evaluating not only what he was doing, but his magical reserves in minute detail.

The experience was downright painful in its intimacy.

Still, he needed to figure out what was wrong with his magic and regain his fragmented control. A strange thought when one considered the fact that he’d been perfectly capable of throwing Starwind and Moondance across the room just two weeks ago, when he’d mistook them for a threat.

In all honesty he was astounded by the amount of information Moondance and Starwind had been able to glean in the short time they’d spent healing him. He was also grateful to have someone human shaped, with whom he could discuss the strange situation he’d found himself in. He was thankful for the ability to converse with them candidly. Otherwise, he had no idea how he would have approached this – rather – unforeseen issue. For all Yfandes was brilliant, she lacked the fundamental understanding of magic a mage gifted person would have possessed, having never possessed it herself. As such, there was little she could do to help him regain his tenuous control.

Starwind had taken up his role as teacher once again, although neither of them had really expected he’d need the basic training. In fact, Van had had the proverbial list of subjects he’d wished to expand upon. He knew how to touch a Heartstone, how to move one, and how to create one – even if he had figured that last one out by accident when he’d set the original web spell. But there were still so many things he needed to figure out, if he was to have any hope of completing the monumental task ahead of him.

The task was straightforward, he needed to do exactly what he’d done in the original timeline, just with the added complication of doing it in such a manner that the magical protections he devised survived the cataclysm that would come in roughly five centuries, and somehow ensure that magic never went dormant in Valdemar. All while ensuring that Valdemar itself developed mind-magic to the same near scientific finesse that had been obtained in the original magicless timeline.

 _Just a simple straightforward task._ He thought derisively. _How in the nine hells am I supposed to ensure that my people don’t fall to this new mage war, while at the same time ensuring that they don’t become so dependent on magic that they fall to the damn Mage Storms._ True he’d been able to devote a ridiculous amount of time to trial and error based exploration of magic during his extended stint as a disembodied spirit. However, just because he’d discovered how to do many things thought magically impossible due to conventional thinking, it did not follow that they would be useful in this new existence. They might be useful to the Herald-Mage, but what of his other tasks?

_That’s only one part of this impossible task. How do I save the Herald-Mages without forcing Leareth’s hand? We need those Herald-Mages to even have a chance at altering our fate. But by the same token it was the extended absence of magic that allowed Valdemar to develop in such a way that enabled the survival of the Mage Storms. Lord Dark and Lady bright, why me? There are just too many variables. To many ways I can fail before I even start…_

_Am I brooding again?_

_Probably._

He considered the facts, while staring at the damned mage fire in front of him. He did not think he could do this on his own. The light cast by the palm sized flame flickered, illuminating the new and rather prominent scars that bisected his forearms. Odd, that I’d bare that kind of scar in both lifetimes. Though the causes are – quite – different.

He’d gotten the story out of a somewhat reluctant Yfandes, shortly after he’d awoken. He’d been lucky in his first lifetime. He hadn’t known the correct way to slit his wrists when he’d sought to atone for the mistakes that had led to his beloved’s death. He’d gotten even luckier in this life. Tylendel had known the right way when he’d attempted to make murder look like suicide. His power flared in response to his rising emotions. The Mage flame, which should have remained stable without him having to devote any attention to it beyond the initial casting, flared up in response. Rising to become a bright pillar of fire, obliterating the poor wax candle in the process. Startled he …squawked, and turned his attention to forcing down the magic. Banishing the flame with an effort of will that left him in physical distress, and still the power pulsed, roiled and crashed against the breakwaters of his will, like a tempest tossed sea.

Gasping for breath, in a manner that mirrored his struggle for control, he leaned forward over his knees and fought down both magic and nausea. If he didn’t control the power it would control him. Panic he hadn’t felt since his earliest days as a mage coursed through him as his power escaped his grasp and threatened to run rampant. Power crackled around him, given shape, but not –quite- form by his panic, and he fought harder, despair rising in his gut at the knowledge that he could not control what he’d accidentally conjured. Power lanced from Yfandes to him and back again in one short sharp arch, before dissipating again as the Companion helped him to bleed off the excess power.

Humiliation flooded him.

Stupid Herald, that’s the twenty-third candle this morning.

He felt himself starting to relax at the soft wave of love and reassurance that washed down his link to Yfandes. He winced as a lock of silver streaked hair fell into his eyes – at this rate he was going to be white haired before he even left the Vale. Then again that could be a good thing, his hair had been heavily streaked long before he’d called down Final-strike on Leareth. He’d had five centuries to grow accustomed to mage-bleached hair. So, the raven locks had been a shock once he’d gotten over the restrictions that came with being embodied once again.

At least I might get a little more respect when we return to Valdemar then I did the last time.

“I believe I have come to understand the problem,” Moondance’s gentle tone raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “The problem cannot be corrected, but given time it can be worked around. Are you ready to hear the hand fate has dealt you, young Vanyel?”

Van suppressed the urge to groan. “I am,” He replied.

“How long has it been since the Goddess brought you back?”

“Only a few weeks,” He replied bemused.

“And before that, how long had you lived?” Moondance enquired.

Vanyel raised one sculpted eyebrow, and reminded himself that both Moondance and Starwind had a tendency to answer questions with questions in an effort to lead him forward on the path to discovering the answers for himself. As a boy of fifteen, he’d found the practice galling in the extreme. For that matter he didn’t find it particularly pleasant now. “Less than half a century, if you count only the years as a caporal being, more than five if one does not limit their definition of a lifetime to years spent in a living body.”

Moondance nodded, “That would make you more familiar with the art of magic without the limitations of your physical body.”

Van considered that. It was true that he had become accustom to the magical freedom that came without having to worry about physically burning out his body. “True, however that shouldn’t change my control.”

“During your time as a border guardian, did your magical reserves replenish as they had when you were alive?”

“Yes,” he answered automatically, thinking about the day he’d kidnapped a pair of Companions, five people, four Gryphons, a Dyheli and a Kyree. Transporting them from Tayledras lands to the far west of Valdemar, to the magically shielded heart of Sorrows in the far north – a distance greater then Valdemar from one end to the next. He’d been exhausted afterwards and had experienced difficulty maintaining a visible form for the better part of a day afterwards.

Moondance raised an eyebrow. “Are you –quite – sure?” he enquired. “Did you need to replenish your reserves often or did the lay lines feed the magic back into you quicker than before?”

Vanyel considered the question, and blanched when he realized that it had taken him a mere two days to recover after he’d stolen Firesong’s gate and redirected its terminus. when he’d kidnapped his many times great granddaughter and her companions, it had taken a mere two days for him to recover. It had taken him a mere two days to recover from stealing another mage’s gate and completely redirecting its terminus. Just two days’ time and he’d been at full strength, with the magical energies and reserves required to then gate a relatively large party into the Ashkevron stronghold. Come to think of it he hadn’t rested between casting the gate spell and bringing down the series of spells protecting Valdemar from magic within her borders. Despite his initial warnings to Elspeth, he’d required less than a week to regain enough strength to begin interfering with Ancar’s forces in Valdemar. True, he’d taken it easy for a week afterwards –

But that had been more to appease Stefen, then from actual need.

No reason to bother the birds after all.

Startled by _that_ revelation he turned his attention down and inward, in an attempt to take a look at his own magical aura and reserves. Taking care to envision magic as water as he had been taught, in that long ago here and now.

What he saw shocked him and he came up with a rush like a startled fish.

Rather than a pool of energy he had a rushing river of power. It flowed into him became a part of him and flowed back out into the lines of power he’d somehow inadvertently become a part of. He did not know how to handle this development. A person’s magical reserve was rather like a small pond, a mage automatically siphoned a small portion of the magic around them into this pond, making the energy their own before using it.

He didn’t know what to think, he had no personal pool, and instead he was simply attached to the nearest lay line at its widest accessible point. He got the impression that the only reason he wasn’t tied into the nearest node was because he wasn’t keyed to them yet. _What would happen if I just connected to one or worse, what if I just accidently connected myself to the Heartstone?_ The thought made him shiver.

_This is bad_

_This is very bad._

Panic took him by the scruff of the neck and shook him like a dog with a rabbit. His breath came in sharp gasps, as he tried to wrap his head around the issue.

 _:I am here, my Chosen,:_ Yfandes said into his mind, her voice full of gentle concern. He reached for her like a drowning man after a rope, and felt her enfold him in love, warmth and reassurance.

He calmed in the safety of her ethereal embrace and set about examining his situation with a sharp analytical mind. _: Have you ever seen anything like this Fandes?:_ he enquired after a moment’s reflection on the problem.

_: Not in a mage Chosen, and I fear that having never been a mage myself I know less of magic then you yourself do.:_

_: But you have seen it before?:_ He prompted.

He sensed her disquiet through the link that sang between them. _: In a sense.:_ She reminded after a silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. _: The only time I’ve seen something like it was the Cat.:_

He groaned at the reminder of the aggravating creature that had decided to make a mess of his peaceful afterlife. He spoke with Yfandes at length about what she’d seen both in him and in their feline stocker, trying to determine the exact point when his gift began to shift from what was – relatively – normal into something else. After a while he turned his attention back to the only other living creature in the workroom with him. Moondance sat before him the very image of statuesque serenity.

“Yfandes says that the issue I appear to be having developed slowly over the course of time, while we existed without physical forms.” He informed the Healing adapt after he was sure he understood everything. “Apparently I failed to notice the difference due to the time involved in the transition and the fact that I had no physical body to interfere with how I channeled magic.” He sighed and added, “That and I wasn’t trapped in the body of an emotionally overwrought teenager.” In a self-depreciating and derisive mutter.

Moondance chuckled, “be that as it may, my young friend. You will find balance and control again, you have no choice.”

Vanyel inclined his head in acknowledgement of that simple truth. A mage’s control was dependent in some sense upon their emotional state. He was powerful enough not to be dependent upon rituals, cantrips, runes, words or even hand movements to dictate his spells. A mage in duress, however, tended to suffer from a profound lack of finesse.

_At least I don’t have to worry about misspeaking a spell and ending up covered in fur or something equally humiliating._

“How long did you serve K’Valdemar as a border guard?” Moondance enquired.

“Several centuries,” Vanyel replied with a slight sigh, elaborating when Moondance arched a sculpted brow. “More than five hundred years, less than six, I believe. Time ceases to be relevant given enough of it.”

“Yes, I imagine it would,” Moondance replied, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Moving on from the relevancies of time to a non-corporeal, immortal entity. Is it safe to presume that over the course of a great amount of time, your energies began to ebb and flow with the natural rhythms of the land? That in essence you ceased to be recognized as an alien presence and were instead simply a part of the forest itself?”

Vanyel considered that question and contemplated an odd memory from his time as the Northern border guard. A calf sized catlike being, with brick red mask and points had appeared in his domain, and departed with Stef’s old lute. The Fire Cat, Altra, if he remembered correctly had taken the time battered instrument out past the south western border and into the heart of the planes. The act had allowed Vanyel to manifest himself in that faraway land. He could manifest himself anywhere a bit of his wood existed, because the forest was in a sense his physical being. They had chosen the lute to make it easier for them to determine their manifestation point. It wouldn’t do to appear by some poor farmer’s hearth and frighten the liver out of them. Over time a lot of the Wood had made its way into the world, but there was only one lute that was so strongly connected to the forest.

“Then the situation is as I suspected. It is not one I have seen before, and unless it is a truly recent development, I fear there is nothing to be done to reverse it. You must simply learn to adapt.” Moondance paused, when he groaned and continued only when he was sure Vanyel was listening. “Magic as you know is not constrained to the here and now, nor does it exist within the confines of either intuitive art or mathematical constraints. Rather it is dependent upon will, intent and understanding. An adapt with a strict set of rules is as effective or less than a hedge-wizard with no idea as to restrictions and an ample imagination. You have however unknowingly defied, one of the few things every mage has held to be true. You have touched the Deep Magic and lived to tell of it. Though you have not emerged unscathed.”

“Deep’s Magic?” Vanyel enquired, suppressing the urge to whine at the utter unfairness of his life like the hormonal teenager he currently was.

“I am not surprised you have not heard of it,” Moondance replied. “Magic flows through lay lines like water through rivers, creating a network of power, strengthening and collecting at the various nodes, flowing out of this world and into the Empyreal planes before coming back again. This you know well enough to teach, however, it must first be claimed once again by the earth before it can flow into everything that makes up our world. This is the Deep Magic, it is the headwaters from which every lay line and node is fed. Without it… well the results of the magic flowing freely between the worlds would be catastrophic. Something akin to taking all the power of a raging tsunami and containing it within a steep narrow gorge.”

Vanyel shuddered, he could well imagine the devastation that would befall any living creature if that were to happen. He listened to Moondance with rapt attention as the other Mage continued his explanation. “You spent so long as a disembodied spirit that you became a part of it, and it a part of you until the forest itself became your physical form and you ceased to be a mage as we know them. Instead you became a small Lay Line, magic flows into you, becomes a part of you and flows on, rather than pooling. Since magic does not follow the constraints of time as we do, Magic still recognizes you as a part of itself. You must learn to dam that river, lest you fling magic around without intending to. Like an apprentice with a node, you cannot use the Deep Magic even if you can sense it.”

Vanyel nodded. “I shall work on regaining control then. The last thing I need is to start sprouting a carpet of flowers or something equally inconvenient.”

“A further word of caution,” Moondance advised. “Because of how you’re reserves currently flow, and as a result of how I suspect you initially became a forest Guardian, you will have to take precautions that you do not call down final strike without intending to do so.”

Vanyel blanched, then swore colorfully. “Beyond focusing on control exercises, for the time being is there anything else you can suggest?”

“No, however, I do have a bit of good news for you. To a mage not actively looking at your gift in minute detail, you appear as everyone else. You draw from the nearest lines of power, keyed or not, yet no one has noted a strange mage connected to the lines of power held by this Vale.”

Van felt his body relax a fraction, _At least I don’t have to worry about this giving me away if I’m pretending to be someone else, or just trying to go unnoticed. That could have caused serious problems._ He nodded, thanked Moondance for his help and settled back into the familiar pose, he’d been taught back when he really had been fifteen. Clearing his mind, he allowed his body to slip into the odd mixture of relaxation and tense concentration that all hawkbrother mages were taught. It was not hard, but the balance was delicate. To relaxed and you’d end up taking a nap, too much concentration and one would never achieve the state they needed. He needed to stay just this side of a true mage trance.  

<(((<>{ }<>)))>

 

A small, lime-washed white, thatch-roofed croft that stood where no croft had existed before. Straddling the border of two ancient kingdoms that had once been part of a log ago prophesy. Four people sat before the hearth, backs to a door left carelessly ajar. The first, an unremarkable woman of indeterminate age sat furthest from the fire. Her graying hair pulled back and pinned to her head in a manor curiously careless and sever. Blue, time faded eyes, focused upon the work of strong, delicate hands, as she sat working the shuttle back and forth, to and fro, feeding dull colorless wool into vibrant tapestry, each strand taking on a hue as she carried the shuttle through the loom.

A balding old man, sat upon the cushion closest to the fire. His, aged, weather beaten face, a study of lines and deep wrinkles. It’s resemblance to a time worn old map was so strong, one had to resist the urge to gaze upon it in search of familiar landmarks. His white hair stood out against the darker colors of his rough homespun woolen clothing, a common, old but well cared for tunic, belted over his trews. The bottom half of his right pant leg knotted below the stump of his knee with careful precision. A second smaller cushion supported his knee. Aged hands cupped an earthenware mug, as gentle eyes gazed upon the hearth’s dancing flames with quiet intensity. Not far from him two younger men sat heads bent to their own tasks.

The older, a man who could only be described as brown, for everything about him from his hair, to his eyes, to his clothing were all degrees of peat brown. As if he’d been masterfully crafted of the woods and forest. With a sigh he set aside the old weathered crutch he’d been maintaining and set about honing the edge of his well-made long knife. The younger, a man scarcely out of his own boyhood, grown tall, muscular and lithe, sat cross-legged upon an old bear pelt on the floor in front of the fire. Long fingered, slim hands coaxed a great cat out of a block of wood, wielding the tip of his long knife with a deftness that spoke of long practice. Long black hair tied out of his face with a leather strap, and feral yellow eyes focused upon his delicate work.

Outside, slinking through the tall, scrubby grass, a large predatory cat made its way through the driving wind and rain headed for the croft’s one door on silent paws.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long I’ve actually had it written for more than a month but am currently in the process of finding a Beta, I have been sending it to my sister or another friend in the hopes of having my work edited. However both of them seem to keep forgetting I sent it to them. So here it is in all its unedited glory. For those of you who are easily offended by spelling and grammar problems… I don’t apologize, I’m dyslexic. Let me know if anyone has a beta recommendation as there are a lot of Beta profiles to read through in an attempt to find a good one.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important Vocab:  
> The Lir are a magical animal guide crafted by the gods for a warrior. They represent half a warriors soul. When it is time for them to connect the warrior experiences a strange sickness that all but drives them mad until they flee into the woods to find their Lir. In the rare case that the two do not meet the Lir dies and the Warrior remains a shadow of what he could be. After they connect a Lir returns to the wild as a normal animal should their warrior die. The reverse is not true should the Lir die their warrior will go crazy. Most commute suicide rather then live with half a soul and persistent madness, those who don't die from madness. ie a warrior who died by jumping off a cliff belie   
> Lir - (leer) is a term used indiscriminately between Lir and their Warriors. With the Lir tending to call their bond mate Lir, in much the same way Companion's will occasionally refer to their Herald as Chosen.   
> Loren -is the term lir use to address a female who possess the gifts of the old blood, amount them the ability to talk to the Lir. Though women do not themselves have Lir.  
> Tahlmorra lujhala mei wicca, Cheysu - the fate of man rests in the hands of gods  
> Cheysuli i’halla shansu, - May Cheysuli peace be upon you   
> :Y’ja’hai - I accept

Chapter 7  
The old woman looked up from her weaving when the door opened letting in the draft. Her eyes fell on the great cat that prowled through the door. “Lir,” she said firmly. “Do not be rude.”   
The cat paused briefly turning his head to meet her gaze. He dipped his head marginally, and kicked the door closed with a single deft motion. : Apologies Liren: he replied sardonically. Making his way over to the young man’s side, he flopped down ungracefully. Body blurring like softened clay, A Black wolf lay in his place.   
“Lir, is it done?” The man asked reaching down to stroke the creature’s back.  
:Aye,: the cat turned wolf replied mildly, his form blurring once again, until a large black bear lay before the hearth. :I have completed my task Warrior. I have found the boy and I know the soul that must be crafted to compliment his. I have felted the Earth magic so that it clings to the man’s. Our children will be given the chance to rise again from those who were unmade and remade eons ago. When the time comes the boy like all of our children must chose to accept his Tahlmorra. Either way he will do so with a Lir at his side. Pity, where he born to the clans, I would have suggested we craft him one of the Winged ones. A Raven perhaps. Alas, in this there is but one Lir form we can give him.: He turned his head to look at the brown man. His body shifting again so that a great boar lay in place of the bear. : What have you to say in this Hunter?:   
“I trust your assessment Lir Maker.” The brown man responded mildly, completely un-phased by the cat’s persistent shape changing. “What of you Cripple, Weaver? Are we all of an accord with this plan?”  
Weaver glanced down at her weaving, a mild expression upon her face. “I can see no alternative.” She replied. “left to his own devices, the boy will rise, but his fall will bring about the death of many.”   
Cripple shifted slightly. “Lir Maker, has never been wrong when choosing the best lir for the warrior in question. He and Warrior have crafted our children’s other selves for centuries. I see no reason to doubt him now. For all he seems to have spent an inordinate amount of time as Noctis of late.”  
Warrior inclined his head. “Very well.” He blue softly on the small carving he held in his hands, freeing each splotch, stripe and spot from its coating of wood dust. “If you would old friend?” he enquired holding his creation out to his Lir.   
Lir lifted his great head, body blurring once again until the strange black cat, its silver marking shinning in the firelight. His ridiculously long incisors prominent as he opened his mouth and breathed into the little carving.   
The carving blurred softly, slight changes being made to its overall form. It took on a soft grayish silver color with a white belly. Deeper gray framing the face and tipping the ears. The markings ranged in color from smoke gray to dappled silver. The little carving opened blue eyes and stretched once, shaking itself as if to shed water from carved fur.   
: Na’Totha,: Noctis said after a moments regard. The little carving blinked luminous blue eyes at him. :Tahlmorra lujhala mei wicca, Cheysu. Will you help him to divine his?:  
The carving blinked, and curled up upon the warrior’s palm. :Y’ja’hai:   
:Cheysuli i’halla shansu, Na’Totha.: Noctis whispered to the newly crafted soul. : Rest until your time is come.: watching as the little carving stilled, becoming nothing more than wood once again.   
Warrior rose from his place upon the floor of the croft and set the little carving among it’s fellows upon a low shelf. Seven lir waiting to go out into the world. it was rare that the lir rejected their destiny, but it was their right to choose so. He was glad this one had chosen to take up her Tahlmorra. With luck she would be one of many more to come.  
< (((<>{ }<>))) >

Savil sighed as she watched her nephew with his Companion. The boy was shaping up to be quite the Herald. She knew foresight was one of his gifts but he also seemed to be developing a skill of turning up exactly where he was needed and when. Just a few weeks ago, he and Yfandes had had taken a pleasure ride only to show up at a small holding in time to save a family from the grasp of a queen colddrake. When left at a small village for his own protection he’d managed to touch the valley node and save them all before the adults had a chance to return. He’d been badly injured in that last one, but still for a boy who had barely any training, he had done well, and his injuries could have been much much worse.   
Still his sensitivity to gate energy and to the magical health of the land around him was alarming. Moondance had deliberately taken the boy into uncleansed lands, to a place where the magic was twisted and corrupted. The boy had become violently ill, and his mood had shifted as swiftly and violently as the terrain. His mood still hadn’t fully stabilized despite their return to the safety of the vale.   
Moondance maintained that it was the easiest way to expose the boy to the dangers of his magical powers and his own unique weaknesses. Still she wished they had waited until the boy had more experience. More time to become accustomed to his gifts. The last thing they needed was a mage that powerful living in terror of himself. The boy was likely to become a hermit out of fear of running into a place that was magically twisted and losing himself.   
She’d been rather surprised when his reaction to the ordeal had been to immediately seek out his Companion and attempt to use her as an emotional barometer. He’d clung to her throughout the entire event, using his bond to her to regulate himself. Though he’d been drenched in a cold sweat despite the snow by the time they’d finally called it a day and come home.   
The boy and his Companion were currently in a small clearing deep within the vale, moving in perfect sync with one another. It was an amazing sight. It never would have occurred to her to spend time with Kellen in such a manor. But Vanyel made it look both graceful and natural as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his companion and shifted through a series of complicated yet eloquent ground maneuvers. At first she had been seriously confused watching the boy and his Companion match steps. When Vanyel had dipped gracefully to the side, only to have Yfandes stretch out her forelegs and toss her head in a manner that followed Vanyel’s movements almost exactly she’d realized they were Dancing. Incredulity had followed, and then amusement.   
She was not entirely sure how to handle the conversation she needed to have with him. His relationship with Tylendel had been an important one to him until very recently. According to Kellen the boy was grieving the traumatic loss of a lifebond. Strange when one considered the fact that Tylendel was still alive. Still the relationship between them had been one where Tylendel led and Vanyel followed. It was hard to place the Vanyel she’d known just a few short months ago against the one he’d rapidly become since his Choosing.   
Vanyel was growing into a strong young man. One she had difficulty believing would ever blindly follow anyone. Yet he still had moments of debilitating self-doubt. She was pleased to note that in those times he turned not to another person but to his Companion. Yfandes had him well in hand. It was clear that with her help he would be worthy of his Whites. Sooner rather than later, she thought. Vanyel was devouring anything and everything magical his teachers could throw at him. Showing a side of scholastic overachievement she never would have guessed he possessed.   
He was quick on his feet in terms of magical progress. It had taken him some timed to gain a measure of control, but once he had he’d started improving by leaps and bounds. It was like he already knew what they were teaching him and just needed a quick refresher course. He was not the best when it came to complicated ritual work, seeming to lack the patience required to truly master it. He was proficient enough, but when it came to fast think on your feet spell casting and abstract solutions the boy already had no equal.   
Still she was not sure how he was going to take the news she had for him. In two weeks’ time she was going to be leaving him and Yfandes alone with the Tayledras. That wasn’t the problem. Vanyel had taken to their culture as if he had been raised with it. He already spoke the language fluently, though occasionally he used an odd phrase or pronounced something incorrectly. He sounded almost as though he’d originally spoke Tayledras, moved to the planes and immersed himself in Shin’a’in culture for about a decade before moving back, only to occasionally jumble the languages.   
It was an odd effect.   
Moondance, Starwind, and Kellen all told her not to worry about it. Still it was decidedly odd. Despite the occasional odd turn of phrase and oddly pronounced word, Vanyel seemed more comfortable in K’Treva then he ever had in Haven or Fort Reach for that matter. No leaving him alone for an extended period of time was not the issue. Moondance, Starwind, Kellen and Yfandes all agreed Vanyel was going to be fine. He was ready to be alone. The problem was that when she came back she planned to do so with Tylendel in toe. They had no way of knowing how long it would take for K’Treva’s healers to fix the wreck Tylendel had become. Just as they had no way of knowing how his presence would affect Vanyel’s mental health, or vice versa.   
Yfandes assured them that she could handle Vanyel, but had warned them that Lifebonded or not Herald trainee or not she would protect her Chosen. Kellen had commented on the fact that Tylendel’s last attempt on Vanyel’s life had resulted in Yfandes losing all respect for the boy’s Companion. Additionally, the mare had informed her that the Herd was trying to figure out what to do about Gala, and the situation that had been created, largely, due to the Companion’s negligence and Vanyel’s interference.   
The usual punishments could not be meted out to Tylendel once his health was recovered due to his Companion, imprisonment was not an option. Tylendel was still a Herald as long as Gala would have him, but their needed to be a punishment. Vanyel himself was not exempt from this fact, he’d been instrumental in the chaos Tylendel had caused.  
Tylendel who had not been in his right mind and Vanyel who had been emotionally abused to the point that he’d had a snowflakes’ chance in a desert of standing against his lifebonded. The Circle and the crown were unsure of how to proceed.  
She sighed, Vanyel was making real progress and she worried that would be hampered by Tylendel’s presence. Watching the boy with his Companion gave her hope that they could move past this new hurtle. She could only hope that the Vale would provide Tylendel with a safe place to heal. Could only hope Gala could keep her Chosen under control long enough for him to survive the next few years. Kellen had assured her Yfandes had not been exaggerating.   
If Tylendel made another attempt on Vanyel’s life, she would eliminate the treat. Savil tried not to groan at the thought of what a disaster that battle would be. Without Taver present to break up the fight that would result, there would at the very least be broken bones before the mares were done with each other.   
She took a deep breath to steady herself and reached both mentally and physically for Kellen. The mare had wondered up to her side a few minutes ago and she placed a hand on her beautifully arched neck seeking the comfort only her Companion could give. “Vanyel,” she called softly. “Youngling, I need a word.”  
< (((<>{ }<>))) >  
:Chosen?:   
Vanyel shifted slightly, moving out of his meditative pose, and turning his head to look up at her. “I am alright.” He assured her, “Merely thinking.”  
:Brooding you mean.:   
Vanyel smiled slightly at that. “Alright, brooding.” He laughed. “I am unsure of where to go from here.” He paused, glanced around and then deliberately switched to mindspeach. :Savil will be returning to Valdemar in the morning, and we are to remain. I do not know how long it will take her to convince the Circle to release Tylendel into her care.: He hesitated. :I miss Stef.: he admitted after a brief pause. : I miss him so much it hurts. Tylendel both is and is not Stef. I meant it when I said that Lendel and I never had the time to fight. I spent five centuries with Stef at my side ‘Fandes. How do I go on without him? Tylendel is not the boy I remember. The Lendel I knew would never have… : Vanyel stopped and looked down at his arms. At the ugly and rather prominent scares he would bear for the rest of his life. :I do not know this Tylendel.: He said mildly, : but I cannot help comparing him to Stefan. Stef and I share five centuries of history, I miss him and I want him by my side, but wishing Stefan was here? To do that I would have to wish Tylendel dead.: He shook his head, and trailed off.   
Yfandes shifted, elegantly folding in upon herself until she lay at his back, a living breathing backrest. He leaned into comfort and warmth provided by her mere presence and tried to come to terms with what his life had become. Not for the first time, he wished he had left this particular crisis to someone else. Fandes turned her head and blew into his ear. Which tickled, he snorted and gently shoved her nose away. “Stop that,” He said, trying not to laugh. She nuzzled him, content in the knowledge that she’d managed to distract him from his brooding.   
He gave in to childish impulse and tore up a handful of grass, tossing it at her in retaliation. She squealed with surprise ears flicking in disbelief. Snorting she shook her head sending bits of grass flying. :Feeling better?: she enquired once the last of the grass was free of her forelock.   
He smiled at her, “quite.” He said aloud, reaching over to gently tweak one of her ears. : do you have any ideas on how we should proceed from here? There is much we must do. But how? How do we make sure Valdemar is prepared for the war I was brought back to stop, while ensuring that She does not fall to the Mage Storms?:  
: I believe it would be prudent to compare notes on what we remember of the mage storms and the events leading up to their eventual conclusion. : Yfandes said after a moment’s consideration. : Clearly Valdemar needs to retain the ability to train mages, while retaining the level of control over the other Heraldic gifts. :   
Vanyel considered his companion’s words. : We need to work on reestablishing the Web Spell tying all Heralds to and Companions together. IT made us all a lot more efficient. Which means I need to be made a Guardian sooner rather than later.: he considered that for a second. : But not too soon I think. Give me a few seconds to work something out ‘Fandes. :   
Over the course of the next hour they worked out a viable plan. Working out Valdemar’s boarders at the time of the coming Cataclysm and now was a difficult first step. Five hundred years was a long time and boarders had changed. He’d have to remember to either create a map detailing both sets of Borders or mark the future borders on a current map.   
“What do you think?” he asked at last, having detailed his plan and mentally marked every major layline and Node in Valdemar he could remember. ,   
: To do it correctly.: Fandes replied, in an almost reverent tone. :Will take a lifetime.:  
Vanyel rubbed his eyes. “It’s a good thing we’ve got a lifetime.”  
:Were shall we begin?: he asked quietly.  
:We ride circuit for a few years. Taver will ensure we end up where we need to be before the war breaks out. May I suggest, though, that we handle the Karsite border before it heats up?:  
Despite himself Vanyel Smiled. : That seems prudent, : he agreed.   
:Can you redirect Laylines? :  
:As it stands now? : He paused and considered the question. : Nothing big enough to be helpful.: he admitted reluctantly. : I will speak with Starwind and Moondance after Savil and Kellan have left.:   
Yfandes bobbed her head, slightly in acknowledgment. : I will be sending a report to Taver via Kellan. How much of the plan should we tell him of now?:   
Vanyel considered that. “I am unsure,” he confessed. “He is the Grove Born. He needs to be apprised of the situation. But I am unsure how much we should divulge at this juncture. Alternatively, the more minds working on the problem the better. We are alone in this Yfandes. I do not like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short, I have been working on it for months and have scrapped it six times. I'm still not happy with it but it's time to push forward. I mentioned at the beginning of this story that their were elements of this story that are leading up to a cross over in the next segment. This is where that really comes out. This is most likely the most in depth I will go with this story into the crossover. This story will eventually very Loosely cross over with Chronicle of the Cheysuli. The second story will cross over with another book. However very little of this applies to Van, in the second part of this series van is a mane side character.


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